Intersecting Fates
by BurningSilence
Summary: A human mage and Grey Warden travels across Ferelden to stop a Blight…and learns that even with the best of intentions, things can turn out less than favourable. One-sided Alistair/PC, Zevran/PC
1. The Fool

**Title: Intersecting Fates**

**Author: Burning Silence**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: **A human mage and Grey Warden travels across Fereldan to stop a Blight…and learns that not everything is as simple as she once thought.

**Author's Note: **So…this is my first DA:O story that I'm attempting (even though I'm terribly behind in updates to my Oblivion stories). This chapter was just to get the feel for the different characters and such. The next chapter should be much more detailed…and hopefully longer. Also, I'm a little rusty, but after a bit, I'm going to go over this chapter again and re-work it. Anyway, this is ongoing, but I can't promise very prompt updates, since I am working on three other stories, and dealing RL drama…and holidays.

* * *

**Chapter I: The Fool **

"So, being raised in the Chantry…does that mean you never…well, you know?" came the unusually blunt question from Faustine Amell.

Alistair supposed that being raised in the Circle, completely cut-off from the outside world would likely…inhibit one's subtlety, but with how reserved Faustine normally was, this question took him quite off guard.

She must have been wondering about this for quite some time. Levity was his best bet to avoid this potentially awkward situation.

"Have I never…what? Never had a good pair of shoes, seen a basilisk, licked a lamppost in winter?"

A pout came over Faustine's pretty face, "You're making fun of me."

"Make fun of _you_, dear lady? I would _never_!" Alistair exclaimed, adopting his most 'innocent' expression. "So tell me then, have _you_ ever _licked _a _lamppost_ in winter?"

Faustine blushed and then scowled. She supposed it was fair for him to ask her that, (because as naïve as she was, there was no doubt what the 'lamppost' question was about), since she _had_ just blurted out her own query out of the blue.

She smoothed her dark hair out of her face and folded her arms as she replied, "No, I have never licked a lamppost in winter."

"Oh, that's good. I understand it's quite painful. One of the younger recruits did it on a dare once and it was awful. There was pointing and laughing…oh the _humanity_." Noticing the girl's scowl, he cleared his throat, "I've, uh, never done _that_ either. Not that I haven't thought about it."

Great, now he was even more embarrassed.

"Oh…so…you've never had the opportunity?"

Oh, why wouldn't she drop this subject?

He let out a nervous laugh, "The Chantry isn't a place for rambunctious young boys. I was taught be a gentleman around beautiful women such as yourself." Oops, he hadn't meant to say that. "I mean, we were taught about courting young women."

Here, he cast her a peculiar look and continued on, "Wouldn't…_you_ want to be courted?"

Oh, now that was an interesting question…She hadn't thought on it much. The only time it even entered her mind was when Cullen was concerned, and it wasn't like anything could have happened there, what with him being a Templar and all.

She pursed her lips and answered, "Well…I suppose. Maybe, if it were the right gentleman."

"O-of course, yes, I see what you mean. Well, uh, I better get back to, um, whatever I was going to do before," Alistair replied, looking a little worse for wear.

He began to head off towards his tent when he heard Faustine call out, "You were going to collect more firewood, remember?"

"Right! I was _just _going to go do that!"

Faustine shook her head and headed back towards her tent. They would need to head out again in the morning, since they'd already taken care of securing the Dalish's assistance with the impending Blight. That whole situation had been…rather depressing. As soon as she laid down on her bedroll, she turned to her side and exhaled abruptly.

Seeing the result of her own kind's cruelty towards the Dalish had been disheartening. Despite the fact she'd pitied the werewolves…humans…that she'd encountered earlier, she couldn't think that Zathrian was wrong with the revenge he'd dealt.

Though…four centuries _was_ an awfully long time to hold onto such hate.

She sat up and took her hair down from the two buns she wore during the day and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to loosen it from around her scalp.

The mage sighed, they'd need to move on tomorrow. She'd take Alistair, Morrigan and Leliana with her to scout a path first. It just wouldn't do to be surprised by anymore darkspawn.

Hell, Faustine didn't think she could _handle_ anymore surprises.

* * *

"Mmm…what? I…oh…"

Faustine had to fight the urge to kick their new 'guest' in the teeth as he began to wake up. After all, they _did_ need to question him.

The blond, cinnamon-skinned elf looked up at her and seemed to become a little more alert.

"I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet," he commented in a thick, Antivan accent.

"I have some questions," the mage gritted out, still extremely angry for being ambushed the way they were.

"Ah! So I'm to be interrogated? Let me save you some time," he paused to clear his throat. "My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."

Faustine arched an eyebrow, "I'm rather happy you failed."

The assassin smiled, showing his white teeth and hurriedly said, "So would I be, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to ones budding assassin career."

"Too bad for you," came the Warden's caustic reply. She wasn't exactly moved by Zevran's plight. It might've been different, you know, if he hadn't tried to kill her and her friends.

"It's true, too bad for me."

Tired of dancing around the issue, Faustine bit out, "Who hired you to kill us?"

"A rather…taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I think his name was?"

Faustine stiffened when she heard the teyrn's name, "Does that mean you're loyal to Loghain?"

The Antivan shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I have no idea what his issues are with you. The usual, I imagine, you threaten his power, yes? Beyond that, no. I am not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service."

She let a small smile grace her features, despite her anger. "And now that you've failed that service?"

"Well," he started, "That's between Loghain and the Crows. And between myself and the Crows."

"And between you and me?"

Zevran made a sly face before commenting, "Isn't that was we are establishing now?"

Faustine glared and crossed her arms, "Why are you telling me this?" It wasn't like she could trust he had _noble_ issues. He _did_ just try to kill them.

"Why not? I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely."

"Aren't you at least loyal to you employer?" the mage asked, more out of frustration and curiosity than anything else.

Zevran looked thoughtful for a moment, "Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and when you are done interrogating me, we can discuss it further."

"Make it quick."

"Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So, let me serve you, instead."

"You must think I'm royally stupid," the brunette said, lightly.

"I think you're royally tough to kill," the elf said, before a roguish look passed over his countenance. "And utterly gorgeous. Not that I think you respond to simply flattery," he defended. "But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess."

Well now, she wasn't quite sure what to say about that. But she could sure feel her face burning up. She had to consciously fight the urge to hide her blushing face and maintain a confident appearance, and she was positive everyone else could see her embarrassment. And she was suddenly _very_ self-conscious of the Chasind robes she was wearing

Now she really wished she'd been able to salvage her mage's robes after Ostagar.

She hastily cleared her throat, "What do you want in return?"

Faustine sighed. 'Is it a good idea to even _consider_ the assassin's offer?' she questioned herself. Though, if she thought about it, her voice of caution sounded quite a bit like Alistair.

Now there was a frightening concept.

Zevran looked a mite confused for a moment, before continuing on, "Well…let's see. Being allowed to live would be nice, and would make me marginally more useful to you. And somewhere down the line if you should decide that you no longer have need of me, then I will go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?"

She sighed again; she was _so_ going to regret this, "Very well. I accept your offer."

"What?" Alistair blurted out from behind her. "We're taking the assassin now? Does that really seem like a good idea?"

Faustine turned to the Templar and pouted. She really hated when people had doubts about decisions she'd made when she already had enough doubts about them herself. "We could use him," she stated, trying to convince herself more than him, it seemed.

Alistair looked reluctant, but conceded anyway. He did however, add, "If there was ever a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello."

"A fine plan," Morrigan jumped in. "But I would examine your food and drink far more closely from now on."

"That's excellent advice for anyone," Zevran chirped.

The younger mage just shook her head and helped their would-be assassin up off of the ground.

"If you make me regret my decision, I will make you regret it," she huffed at the elf.

Zevran flashed her a charming smile and lifted her hand to his lips, "Then, I will do my best not to disappoint you."

Really, if he didn't stop making her blush, she just might kill him anyway.

* * *

"You know, my dear Warden, I _could_ help you with dinner," Zevran offered, smirking slightly.

"Right," Faustine drawled. "I'm going to trust _you_ with _food_."

"I am merely trying to offer whatever services may be needed to the beautiful woman who spared my life."

"And your target, don't forget I was your target first," she quipped.

"Ah! Past tense! You see? You _were_ my target, but no longer," he grinned at her.

She glared half-heartedly, "I don't care what you say; I still don't trust you with anything I'm going to put in my mouth."

The look Zevran had on his face after she said this was decidedly lascivious and Faustine's face heated, trying to think of any other way what she had said might be interpreted.

"Oh, but my darling…"

"I don't want to know what you're thinking! Get that look off of your face! Go sit next to Alistair…or Morrigan! Maybe she'll turn you into a toad," she huffed, going back to her pot of stew, blushing furiously.

"Alas, you wound me with your constant rejections! How can you be so cruel?" he pouted.

"Off with you," she waved him off, trying to smother a grin. "And don't come back until supper is ready."

She waited until he left (presumably to harass the other women) before she let out a small giggle. She supposed it was a bit of a novelty to be flirted with so blatantly. Of course, she was still horribly embarrassed by it, but she supposed it was still nice to be noticed for something that _didn't_ have to do with fighting, or darkspawn.

Even if he only did so in jest.

* * *

"My, such fearsome scowls, Alistair," came Morrigan's taunting voice.

"You're still breathing, I see."

"Do not take your anger out on me. 'Tis not my fault you are too cowardly to 'make a move', if you will," she snapped.

Alistair glared at the witch, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, so you look as if you would like nothing better than to skewer our failed assassin on your sword merely out of 'distrust'."

"Don't you have souls to suck out of men, or whatever it is you do? You must be getting awfully far behind," the man grumbled.

Morrigan raised an eyebrow at Alistair's attitude, "If you do not wish for my insight, then far be it from me to force it upon you. I merely thought you would like to hear an objective view point in this situation. Clearly, I was mistaken."

Before the witch could turn around and leave, Alistair called out, "Why would you care?"

"Perhaps it is merely because I am bored and have nothing better to do, other than listen to the elf's half-hearted attempts to talk Leliana into his tent."

The blond man nodded, "Alright, I can buy that."

"I'm so relieved," the brunette rolled her eyes.

Alistair had suspected it was more than that, since he'd often spied Faustine sitting in Morrigan's camp and talking with her well into the night. The young mage seemed to have a small case of 'hero-worship' when it came to the apostate. He could understand that. It must be refreshing for Faustine to be around another relatively young woman, but one who was free from the constraints of the Circle.

He just hoped that her infatuation with Morrigan wouldn't lead her down an unsavory path.

Then Alistair's brows furrowed, "What do you mean 'half-hearted'?"

Morrigan smirked, "Finally caught on to that, did you? All I meant was that I do not think he is very serious in his flirtation. Perhaps it amuses him to fluster the women so. Though, I daresay that our 'fearless leader's' reactions aren't quite what I would expect of her. She seems more embarrassed than disgusted."

"W-what's your point?"

The apostate sighed, this man was truly ignorant. The only reason she was even doing this was because she was concerned for the party's welfare and their current objective if Faustine were somehow influenced by this Zevran.

It surely could not be any other reason, despite how close she and the Circle mage had gotten.

Morrigan was worried that the assassin's exoticism would win the young girl over, (really she was _horribly_ innocent), and would thus lead her into making decisions that she weren't beneficial to make.

Such as sparing his life.

Though, she'd always been very soft-hearted. That impression had been compounded when Faustine revealed to Morrigan the reasons for her leaving the Circle and becoming a Grey Warden. And her desire to 'fix' everything around her.

"All I'm saying, Alistair, is that Faustine is very young and very sheltered. She is easily more influenced than someone like, say, Leliana, or myself. And if you ever wish to accomplish anything with her, you will need to be straightforward about it."

"I-I have no idea what you're talking about! We're done talking about this!" Alistair exclaimed, drawing attention from just about everyone in camp, including Faustine's mabari.

Morrigan huffed and stood up, "Fine, suit yourself. But if you find that an opportunity you had at one point isn't there anymore, remember you have no one to blame but yourself."

* * *

Alistair, he'd noticed as they all crowded around for dinner, seemed quite flustered, while the witch (he'd come to know her name was Morrigan) kept flashing him fearsome glares. Zevran chuckled to himself when he saw the templar fidget uncomfortably as he sat next to him, with Faustine across the way next to Morrigan and Leliana. And apparently the Qunari had declined dinner in favour of going hunting with the mage's dog.

At least, that's what it sounded like when Faustine had complained about the dark man not wanting to eat her cooking. For such an accomplished warrior, she acted very young.

Of course, he didn't really know how old she was; sometimes it was difficult to tell with humans. And she _did_ look rather young. Alistair, too, for that matter.

"Well? Why are you just picking at your supper? It's not like _I'm_ the one known for poisoning unsuspecting people, now am I?" Faustine glared at the assassin.

"Ah, but my dear, I am not unsuspecting, now am I?" he winked at her. She did colour every so prettily. It was quite endearing.

"A pity," Morrigan interjected.

Faustine raised her eyebrows as she glanced over at the older woman, trying to stifle her grin. It was obvious she enjoyed the swamp witch's company.

And it was even more glaringly obvious that the swamp witch detested his presence.

"Well, I suppose on that note I have to now _prove_ that it isn't poisoned," the mage quipped. Before anyone could say anything, she reached over with her spoon and took a bite of Zevran's portion of the stew. After chewing a few times, she swallowed and smiled, "See?"

And with that, she settled back into her spot, leaving quite a few members of her party dumbfounded.

However, Zevran found it charming.

_**

* * *

**_

The Fool:

_ I choose life, becoming…_

_Choice. When presented possibilities in the game of living, choose wisely, for the decisions you make now affect your whole life. Immature and reckless behavior can result in making bad decisions._


	2. The High Priest

**Title: Intersecting Fates**

**Author: Burning Silence**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: ***slaps self* I can't believe I forgot to put this in my first chapter! Dragon Age: Origins does not in anyway belong to me. It belongs to the amazingly talented people at BioWare. I'm not making any money from this; I am merely using these characters for my own amusement.

**

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Chapter II: The High Priest

Faustine thrashed around in her tent, her face screwed up in torment as she suffered another one of the many nightmares that had plagued her since Ostagar. Most were of the Archdemon…some weren't however.

Her mind would occasionally go over the moment she and Alistair _should_ have died…she hadn't been prepared at all for that brutality. The Harrowing, Jowan's display of power, even fighting the darkspawn while they were in the Korcari Wilds were one thing; the fall of Ostagar was…something else entirely.

Perhaps it had something to do with facing her own mortality in such a…brutal fashion.

She finally awakened with a gasp and took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She had to stifle several sobs in fear of waking the rest of the group.

'Don't be ridiculous,' she thought to herself. 'You've face many darkspawn since. And you've fought other tainted creatures; you just need to grow up.' She sniffled once more, and rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. It didn't look like she'd be getting back to sleep any time soon.

As she opened the flap to her tent, she noticed her hands were shaking terribly and did her best to control them. To her surprise, she heard the campfire being tended to; she feared she may have woken Alistair. She bit her lip guiltily and crept out of her tent.

Only to be surprised to see Zevran stoking the fire.

"Oh!" she exclaimed softly. "What are you doing up?"

The assassin gave her a surprisingly soft smile and said, "Forgive me, I do not mean to be…insensitive, but you _were_ making quite a bit of noise thrashing about in your sleep, and I'm a very light sleeper as it is…" He trailed off, assumingly to not antagonize an angry retort out of the young mage.

Her dark eyes lowered and she twisted her hands in her night clothes (for she _did_ bring along an old nightgown that she could sleep in). "I am sorry," she murmured. "It's just…I get these nightmares…"

The elf put up a hand, silencing Faustine. "You do not need to explain it to me. I do understand. And, like I said, I am a very light sleeper."

"I guess that makes sense, what with you being an assassin and all."

Zevran laughed, and Faustine felt comfortable enough to let a small smile through, which was quickly chased away by a yawn. She covered her mouth and sat down in front of the fire, trying to warm herself.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, before Zevran turned to face her. "May I ask a question?"

Faustine raised a delicate eyebrow before nodding her assent.

"What were you dreaming about?"

The mage's eyes narrowed and she replied, "Why do you care?"

The assassin looked surprised but shrugged, "I was merely curious, if you do not wish to tell me, you do not have to."

He heard her sigh before she responded, "I apologize, I don't mean to snap." She frowned, looking down at her hands that had balled up into small fists. She seemed almost…ashamed. It was rather disconcerting to see someone who, over the last couple of days, he'd come to see as rather effervescent appearing so…melancholy.

"It's just…it's embarrassing that I have these nightmares," she mumbled, bringing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around them. "Alistair says that all Grey Wardens have them…they're supposed to be about the Archdemon, but mine aren't always like that. The First Enchanter would probably say I was suffering through some trauma from Ostagar. That's where I went, you know. When I was recruited," she paused. "Sometimes…sometimes I wish I were still at the Circle, you know? Then…none of this would have happened. Or…I suppose maybe it would have…only I wouldn't have been there for it. But then again…I am truly glad I'm not. That place was like a prison."

The girl shuddered, recalling unpleasant memories. "The templars watched us obsessively; we had little-to-no privacy. They could force mages into taking the Rite of Tranquility or…or put them to death, if they feared the mage was too dangerous. That's what would have happened to one of my friends." She stopped again, unsure if she should go on. She searched Zevran's face for a moment, and then continued. "He fell in love with an initiate…that's forbidden you know," she flashed him a small grin, "and she found out they were going to make him Tranquil. Surely you've seen some of the Tranquil, right? In various Circle shops, I'm certain. Anyway, I digress; he couldn't stand the thought of losing his dreams, his feelings, his love …so he asked me to help him destroy his phylactery."

"Phylactery?" Zevran questioned, looking puzzled.

"It's a vial of our blood…our leash, if you will, that the templars use if any of us go 'rogue' to track us down. He wanted to run away with his initiate…" she trailed of wistfully. Then, she began to look pained, "He lied to me. He told me, right to my face, he didn't practice blood magic. He lied to _her_…anyway, when all was said and done, she refused him, he ran off, and I was recruited into the Grey Wardens," she sighed. "But, I still stand by my decision to help him." She then blushed, and smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry; you probably don't want to hear about all of this, do you? I have a tendency to ramble when I'm tired, but I simply cannot go back to sleep right now."

"I do not mind; I find your rambling quite endearing," he winked at her.

"Shut up, you're teasing me again."

"It is only teasing if it is not true."

Her only response was to raise an eyebrow at him. They fell silent once more, and Zevran took the time to appraise her features. Her hair was unbound, and fell quite becomingly across her bared shoulders and down her back. Her cheeks and lips were flushed from the cold, and her large, dark eyes had a drowsy appearance to them at the moment. She was of surprisingly small stature for a human; quite a bit shorter than the witch and the bard, and very slim; she hardly had a warriors' build.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the elf gazing at her. "Stop staring at me! It's off-putting," she whispered, harshly. Zevran merely laughed at her discomfiture. "You're irritating," she snapped.

"You are so cruel as to deny me the pleasure of looking at such a striking beauty, my darling."

Faustine fought hard to keep her head up and not give in to her embarrassment, but she gave in after a few moments and buried her face in her arms. She knew her reactions only spurred him on, but she couldn't help it. He continuously caught her off-guard when he said such things, even though she knew he was kidding.

"I wish you'd stop teasing me about my looks," her muffled voice commented.

"You truly think I am making fun of you?"

She raised her head a bit, "It's not like _that_. I simply think you find it great sport to provoke such reactions out of me."

"My dear Warden, I would never lie to a woman about how ravishing she is," the elf purred.

Faustine fought a grin even as her face heated up again and shook her head. "You only have one thing on your mind, don't you?" Then, she looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know," she began, "you just sat here and listened to me tell you quite a bit about myself, and I still don't know much about you? But I _do_ have a question that I've wanted to ask you. If you don't mind answering, that is."

"By all means, ask away."

"What do you think about the Dalish?"

Zevran looked surprised, "That's…not the question I was expecting you to ask me."

"Oh, well, it's not my only question, just the first one I had in mind since I've met you. Well, at least, after I had finished 'interrogating' you, as you so eloquently put it."

"Hmm, well, I can't say I know much about them, other than that my mother was Dalish. It's one of the few things I knew about her. She fell in love with an elven woodcutter and followed him to Antiva, where of course, he died from some disease and she had to resort to prostitution to survive. Same old story."

"That's terrible, Zevran!" Faustine exclaimed as softly as she could, and reached over to grasp one of his hands out of instinct.

He appeared surprised with her sudden willingness to touch him, but was nevertheless moved by her compassion. "These things happen. My mother died in childbirth…my first victim, as it were," he frowned, then, before moving on. "The only thing I had of hers was a pair of gloves. They were Dalish doeskin, with embroidery and fur-lining. When I was recruited into the Crows, I kept them hidden, but of course, they were discovered after some time. I never saw them again."

"Were you not allowed to have any personal affects?"

"We were not allowed to have anything from our past," he stated simply.

She looked at him with sadness and something akin to pity, and he began to feel uncomfortable, so he stood up and dusted himself off. "Well I think I've depressed you enough for one evening, I think it is time for us both to head back to our tents and try and get some more sleep. Unless, of course, you'd prefer some company tonight?" he grinned, lecherously.

She fixed him with a level stare, "No, thank you, I think I'll be perfectly fine on my own."

"Ah, well, you can't blame a man for trying."

"Of course I can; just watch me," she drawled.

Zevran offered his arm to help her up, which she accepted, and before she disappeared inside her tent, she whispered, "Goodnight, Zevran."

He laughed quietly, "Goodnight, my dear Warden."

Faustine dreamt no more for the rest of the night

* * *

Alistair awoke to the feel of a cold nose and wet tongue on his face.

"Ungh, Orion! Why don't you go wake up Faustine?"

Orion just looked down at the man and whined.

"I know," he sighed. "She was probably up late…and you just don't want her yelling at you for waking her up. You'd rather she yell at me."

Orion merely gave a happy bark of approval before trotting off out of Alistair's tent.

"Yeah, same to you," he grumbled before getting himself up.

From the sounds coming from outside, it seemed as if most of everyone was already awake. And Leliana appeared to be the one to make breakfast this morning. Alistair cringed; it wasn't that the bard was a bad good. Not at all, in fact. Everything she made tasted quite good…he just wished she wouldn't try to decorate it so much.

However, he _was_ awfully hungry, so he decided to dress sit with everyone else to eat.

When he made his way out of his tent, he saw the Faustine had also gotten up, looking a bit worse for wear. She seemed exhausted; the Chasind robes she had found (and he still blushed whenever he saw her in them) were thrown on haphazardly, her hair was more loosely bound than was her norm, and she kept hunching over (although, that may have been because she was obviously uncomfortable in her new 'clothing').

"Rough night?" he greeted her as he sat down beside her.

She covered her mouth as she yawned, "You don't know the half of it." Then she frowned, "Well, maybe you do."

"Nightmares?"

She nodded, and took a bite of the roll she had grabbed to tie her over until Leliana finished cooking. "I wish we had honey," she sighed. At Alistair's questioning look, she replied, "I have a terrible sweet tooth, and I haven't had anything sweet since….well, since I left the Circle."

He laughed and grabbed a roll for himself and asked Leliana when breakfast would be finished.

The red-haired woman huffed playfully and responded, "It should only be a few more minutes, Alistair."

"Don't be impatient," Faustine scolded.

"I can't help it if I'm hungry," he grumbled.

"For someone who is supposed to be a warrior, you whine great deal," Sten interjected.

Both Leliana and Faustine snickered at that.

"Hey!"

Faustine flashed Alistair a smile as he pouted and patted him on the shoulder before looking in a different direction, her face a bit brighter. "Good morning, Zevran!"

Alistair's pout soon became a scowl. So, that _lecher_ had finally decided to grace them with his presence?

"I admit; I am surprised to see you up as early as you are. You did not get to sleep until very late," the assassin remarked.

"Oh?" Alistair questioned. "And how would _you_ know?"

Zevran allowed a small smirk to grace his features, "Well, our fair Grey Warden awoke me in the middle of the night and proceeded to keep me up into the early morning hours…"

The reactions he received were instantaneous: Alistair's face grew bright red as he spluttered in indignation; Leliana coughed and seemed to attempt to ignore the whole conversation; Sten merely looked over at the elf and raised an eyebrow; and Faustine…

Well, it seemed to take Faustine a few moments to register exactly what it was the Zevran had implied when she glared at him (trying to disregard the fact she was blushing) and threw her half-eaten roll and him.

"We were _talking_! That's all!" she exclaimed. "And don't you dare try to convince them otherwise, you…you _pervert_!"

The elf laughed at took a bite out of the roll Faustine threw at him, much to the mage's dismay.

"That's disgusting, I ate off of that," she wrinkled her nose in distaste. She then scoffed, "See if I bother keeping you company anymore."

"Oh, but I so enjoyed your delightful company last night…"

"Please, cease this…whatever it is. It is making me want to vomit," Morrigan remarked as she made her way to the main camp.

"Good morning, Morrigan," both Faustine and Leliana greeted.

"I hope you're hungry," Leliana added. "I'm afraid I may have made a bit too much to eat."

"If it is better that what Alistair made for supper two days ago, I will have to qualms eating it," the witch answered.

"Hmm, yes…by the way, Alistair," Leliana began. "What _was_ that…soup you made?"

"Ooh, that? That's a traditional Fereldan lamb and pea stew. Did you like it?

Leliana's face looked stricken for a moment as she replied, "That was…lamb, then? It had a certain texture I don't normally associate with lamb."

"They didn't make lamb and pea stew for you in Lothering?"

"We ate simply there. Whole grains, made into biscuits or bread, and vegetables from the garden, cooked lightly. No heavy stews."

Alistair nodded, looking rather smug as he responded, "Ah, so the last lamb you had was probably cooked Orlesian style. Food shouldn't be frilly and pretentious like that. Now here in Ferelden, we do things right. We take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color. As soon as it looks completely bland and unappetizing, that's when I know it's done."

"It certainly looked that way when you cooked it, then," Faustine remarked, looking a little ill. "Now, I'm glad I went to bed early that night."

"I think after that meal, I would sooner trust the assassin with my food than you, Alistair," Morrigan said.

Faustine grinned, but before long, her face became serious again, "We need to figure out what we're going to do now. We already have the Dalish Elves' support, but we have more allies that we need to find."

Alistair nodded and turned to look at her fully. "I think it might be a good idea to visit Redcliffe next. We'll need the Arl's help, especially if Loghain feels threatened enough to send an assassin after us. No offense meant, Zevran."

"Oh, none taken," the Antivan said.

"Hmm, you have a good point, actually. But what if he's as sick as Ser Donall told us? What do we do then?" Faustine sighed.

"I, uh…I'm not sure. I suppose we deal with it once we get there," the templar stammered.

"'Tis an excellent idea, Alistair," Morrigan interjected. "How ever did you come up with such a brilliant plan?"

"You know what?" Alistair glared at the woman. "I'm getting really tired of you acting like I'm stupid…"

"Oh, I wasn't aware I was merely_ acting_…"

Faustine held up her hands. "Please…can't we get through one meal with out you two arguing? Alistair, you know she only does that because you respond so easily. And Morrigan…you know Arl Eamon means a lot to Alistair. It's understandable he's taken off-guard by this situation," she pled, though it came across as something she did habitually.

Morrigan huffed and settled down for breakfast, while Alistair shot her a smug glance.

Faustine just sighed, and rolled her eyes.

* * *

"So, how much farther away is this Redcliffe?" Zevran asked.

"Why, do you have something more pressing to attend to?" Alistair sniped.

"We're almost there," Faustine cut in, not wanting to deal with another argument.

"It should just be a little bit longer. Redcliffe is just over that hill," Leliana added, noting the young mage's discomfort.

"Do you and Sten mind staying behind to set up camp once we get there, Leliana?" Faustine inquired.

"Not at all," the redhead replied as the Qunari stayed silent.

"I'll take your silence as a 'no', then, Sten," Faustine remarked with a grin.

She stopped and crouched down to pet Orion, "And you won't mind, either, will you boy?"

She received a happy bark in reply.

"Somehow, I didn't think you would."

"It's too bad that we can't afford a room at a tavern," Leliana pointed out.

"Oh, why is that? Is the hard forest floor a bit too much for you?" Morrigan replied, caustically.

"It isn't that at all Morrigan," Leliana defended. "I just thought it would be nice to have a nice, warm bed once in awhile."

"And a hot bath," Faustine added.

"And a properly prepared meal," the bard continued.

The two young women sighed wistfully as Morrigan shook her head.

"Just the same," Alistair began, "You probably wouldn't enjoy many Ferelden inns."

"Yes, I've visited a few when I first came here, and they were…different than what I expected," Leliana admitted.

"You mean they weren't stylish enough for you," the templar grinned.

"No," she defended, hurriedly. "That wasn't what I meant, exactly…"

"What are they like? I've never been to one," Faustine piped up, tilting her head to one side.

At everyone's questioning glance, she added, somewhat abashed, "Other than our recent excursions, I've never been outside of the Circle…and I was sent there at a very young age."

"Well, it isn't like they're very exciting," Alistair explained. "They're just very…basic. Nothing extra…unless you're paying through the nose at a tavern or inn that nobles frequent."

"Oh, the Apprentice's dorms were like that at the Circle. The Mage's rooms were _much_ nicer…even though I was only there for about a day," she smiled sheepishly.

"Really? You were recruited right after your Harrowing?" Alistair asked, looking confused. "You never told me that."

"Ah, it isn't really anything interesting," she shrugged, continuing to walk uphill. "Hey! Isn't that Redcliffe Village over there?" She asked, pointing down into the valley.

Alistair ran up behind the mage and nodded, "Yeah, that's it." Then he glanced down with his brow furrowed. "Um, can I…talk to you about something? You know, before we go down there?"

Faustine looked at him questioningly before nodded and going off with the templar.

* * *

"So…what do you think they're talking about?" Leliana asked.

"Hmm, I do not know, but Faustine seems quite taken aback," Zevran answered.

"She is probably attempting to figure out how it is that Alistair survived childhood with out the aid of cranial protection," Morrigan remarked.

"Such a barbed tongue you have, Morrigan," Zevran purred. "It drives me mad with desire!"

"Touch me and it shall be the last thing you ever do, elf."

"Oh…but what a pleasant way to go!"

"You two…This might be serious!" the bard cried out.

"Yes, that it may be, but it may also be none of our business. Otherwise, I am sure Alistair wouldn't have taken their conversation elsewhere," Zevran pointed out.

"Speculation is a fool's game," Sten spoke, sounding a little irritated. "It would be better if we were to do something productive that chatter on needlessly."

Morrigan huffed at this while Leliana blushed. Zevran just smiled.

When Alistair and Faustine made their way back, Alistair looked strangely subdued and Faustine had an air of annoyance around her, but she didn't seem particularly angry.

The mage clapped her hands together and questioned, "Well, are we going to head down or what?"

"'Tis not like we were waiting for you two," the witch pointed out.

"Erm, right," Faustine muttered. "Well…let's go."

When they were about fifty feet out from the village's entrance, they stopped for a time to set up camp. As Faustine rummaged through her pack, her hand brushed against something she'd forgotten she'd picked up while in the Brecilian Forest.

"Oh!" she exclaimed softly, eyeing the items. A small smile graced her features as she thought of who these would be perfect for.

* * *

After everyone retired for the evening, after agreeing it would be best to head into the village first thing in the morning, Faustine stayed up with Zevran for a bit, fiddling with her pack.

"You've been fidgeting for quite some time, dear Warden. Is there something troubling you?" the assassin asked.

The mage opened her satchel, and pulled something out of it. At Zevran's quizzical stare, she handed the item to him.

"Gloves?" he asked. "You are giving me gloves?" He eyed them closely for further inspection, not noticing the slightly hurt look on Faustine's face.

"If you don't like them, give them back."

He looked up and smiled, "I did not mean to sound ungrateful. I appreciate it, truly. I—wait a minute…these are Dalish?" At Faustine's nod, he continued. "My mother had a pair of Dalish gloves…the leather was thinner and there was more embroidery…but these are very close. Thank you."

"I was going through my pack when I came across them, and I remembered what you said about your mother's gloves, so I thought that you might appreciate these," she mumbled before she fell silent once more, staring into the campfire.

"Hmm, you still seem so pensive. May I ask what is wrong?"

"I suppose I just…have a bad feeling about tomorrow, that's all," she remarked.

"How so?"

"I don't know, I can't really explain it. I just feel…uneasy about the whole thing. There was just something about the town felt a little strange to me, if that makes any sense."

Zevran nodded, "Perhaps Morrigan has sensed the same thing. She looked strangely thoughtful earlier as well. If whatever is wrong with the village is mystical in nature, maybe you two would be sensitive to it."

"Maybe. I hope she doesn't mind coming along tomorrow," she frowned briefly, before getting up and stretching out. "Anyway, I'm going to bed now. Goodnight."

Zevran smiled up at her as he put his new gloves on, "Goodnight."

**

* * *

**

**The High Priest: **_Your Eyes are the depths of forever…_

_Hidden wisdom, the High Priest has the power of insight. There is a lot happening beneath the surface and the whole picture cannot be revealed at present. Or it can be superficial, lacking depth. The situation holds no secrets. It's time now to let go of outmoded behavioral patterns._


	3. The Magician

**Title: Intersecting Fates**

**Author: Burning Silence**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: **Dragon Age: Origins does not in anyway belong to me. It belongs to the amazingly talented people at BioWare. I'm not making any money from this; I am merely using these characters for my own amusement.

* * *

**Chapter III: The Magician**

"So," Zevran began, panting. "That 'bad feeling' you mentioned last night…do you think that might have had anything to do with the horde of undead we just fought off?"

"You know what, Zevran, I think it just might have been," Faustine shot back, acerbically. Then she cringed as she felt a pain shoot up her back from one of the few wounds she'd received.

She felt a bit guilty about that. Out of the four of them, she and Morrigan had fared much better than either Alistair or Zevran. However, the two mages were exhausted, having used up so much mana in such a short amount of time.

"Are you alright?" Alistair asked, observing Faustine's grimace.

"Yes, I'll be fine, but we need to get you and Zev fixed up."

'Zev?' Alistair thought. He wasn't aware that they'd become so close in the past few days.

"I have some elfroot, so I should be able to make a few healing poultices…they won't be as good as some other mages could make, though."

"I thought Alchemy was mandatory at the Circle," the templar thought aloud.

"It is," Faustine confirmed. "But I never took any of the advanced courses. Just enough to know what would kill you and what would heal you. I was more interested in learning to cast hexes. Which, as you can see, I am quite good at."

"What about Morrigan?"

Faustine took notice of the witch's glare towards Alistair and laughed, "You'd feel safe letting Morrigan prepare a health poultice for _you_?"

"I see your point," Alistair conceded.

"As if I would even bother," the witch huffed, affronted.

Faustine rolled her eyes, "You aren't exactly his biggest fan. And, if it makes you feel any better, I'd trust you to make _my_ healing poultices."

"Yes, now I feel ever so much better."

* * *

"So," Morrigan started as they made their way to meet Bann Teagan by the windmill. "What is going to keep you from poisoning your target now that you have been allowed to accompany us, I wonder?"

For a split second, a scowl came over Zevran's face, but it passed as soon as it appeared before he replied, "You are. You will be watching me ever so closely to make sure I attempt no such thing."

The woman raised an eyebrow at the elf's impertinence and continued on, "And why would I do such a thing? Sneaking into our good graces in order to make another attempt is what I would do, were I you."

"And here I was becoming rather fond of the idea of you watching me closely."

"It would be a simple enough matter to poison the food at camp, or cut our throats in our sleep," she pointed out.

"You seem rather charmed by the idea."

"It would seem an appropriate result of sparing your life," she explained, glancing at Faustine. The younger mage rolled her eyes in return.

Zevran gave a slight sneer when he responded, "Ah. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you then. The next time I am spared, I will be sure to immediately turn upon my benefactors. Will that do?"

They glared at each other for a bit until both Faustine and Alistair cut in.

"Please, you two, not right now?" Faustine implored

"I can't imagine it'll look very good if the Bann happens upon us fighting each other," Alistair pointed out.

"As if that is a concern to me, Alistair," Morrigan criticized.

"I was merely appeasing our lovely swamp-witch's curiosity, my dear," Zevran commented, winking.

Alistair bristled at Zevran's attitude toward their 'leader' and remarked, "Yeah, well, even I can't blame Morrigan's misgivings about you being here."

"I give up," Faustine sighed, irritated.

"Men," Morrigan sniped.

"Ah, there you are!" Teagan proclaimed as they reached the top of the hill. "I want to thank you again for helping us in the village."

"You don't have to thank us; we couldn't just let those creatures continue to torment the village," Faustine smiled gently.

"Speak for yourself," Morrigan mumbled. The younger mage promptly kicked her in the shin.

"Odd how quiet the castle looks from here," Teagan contemplated, either having not heard the witch, or simply ignoring her. "You would think there was nobody left inside at all." He shook himself out of his reverie. "But I shouldn't delay things further. I had a plan to enter the castle after the village was secure."

He gestured to the windmill they'd gathered near and continued, "There is a secret passage here, in the mill, accessible only to my family."

"Why didn't you enter in the first place?" Faustine questioned.

"I had no idea what lurked in the castle! And I couldn't abandon the people of the village! What if-," Teagan cut himself off when something caught his eye. His eyes widened as he whispered, "Maker's breath…"

"Teagan!" a woman cried out running towards the Bann. "Thank the Maker you yet live!"

A beautiful blonde woman came up to them, panting slightly to catch her breath. She was dressed in Orlesian finery, and her voice had been thickly accented.

"I do not have much time to explain!" she rushed. "I slipped away from the castle as soon as I saw the battle was over. And I must return quickly," she bit her lip and looked down, nervous. "And I…need you to return with me, Teagan."

Faustine raised her eyebrow, "Be careful, this could be an ambush."

She could hear both Zevran and Morrigan agreeing behind her. She could practically feel the tension radiating off of her friends.

"What?" the blonde asked, glaring at Faustine. "I…who is this woman, Teagan?"

Alistair sighed from behind the young mage, "You remember me, Lady Isolde, don't you?"

Faustine's eyebrows shot up the same time Isolde's did.

"Alistair? Of all the—why are _you_ here?"

"They are Grey Warden's, Isolde," Teagan reprimanded. "I owe them my life."

"Pardon me," she apologized, abashed. "I would exchange pleasantries, but…considering the circumstances…"

"Please, Lady Isolde," Alistair pled. "We had no idea anyone was even alive within the castle. We must have some answers."

"I…know you need more of an explanation, but I don't know what is safe to tell. Teagan, there is a terrible evil within the castle. The dead waken and hunt the living! The mage responsible was caught but still…it continues." She stopped, trying to gather her nerves and calm herself enough to continue. "I think…Connor is going mad. We have survived but he won't flee the castle. He has seen so much death. You must help him, Teagan! You are his uncle, you could reason with him! I do not know what else to do!"

"What about Arl Eamon? Is he still alive?" the mage asked. She was anxious to know what sort of situation they were all in. The uncertainty was making her feel fidgety and a bit ill.

"He is. He is being kept alive so far, thank the Maker."

Everyone heard Morrigan's huff at another mention of the 'Maker'.

"Kept alive?" Teagan questioned. "Kept alive by what?"

"Something the mage unleashed. So far, it allows Eamon, Connor, and myself to live," Isolde explained. "The others were…not as fortunate. It's killed so many, and turned their bodies into walking nightmares! Once it was done with the castle, it struck the village."

Her expression turned pained, and Faustine felt sympathy for her, despite her misgivings about the woman.

"It wants us to live, but I do not know why. It allowed me to come for you, Teagan, because I begged, because I said Connor needed help."

Faustine sighed, it sounded like an Abomination. She hoped that wasn't the case.

"Do you think this 'evil' could be a demon?" the mage asked, dreading the answer.

"I…I do not know…Oh Maker's mercy!" the arlessa cried out. "Could it truly be a demon?"

The Warden clenched her fists, "It…it would fit with what has been happening in Redcliffe and the castle…At least…from what I've researched while I was at the Circle."

"I can't let it hurt my Connor! You must come with me Teagan! Please!" Isolde begged.

"Why must the Bann go alone?" Zevran spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest.

Isolde looked as if she was fighting back a glare, "For _Connor's_ sake, I promised I would return quickly and only with Teagan." She turned her gaze to the Bann, "Teagan, I know you could order your men to follow me when I return to the castle, but I bet you not to, for Connor's sake!"

Thinking over what the assassin said, and taking in the Lady's evasive manner, Faustine inquired, "Why do I get the feeling you aren't telling us everything?"

"I…I beg your pardon! That's a rather impertinent accusation!" she spat.

"Impertinent for a mage, you mean?" the girl retorted, her temper flaring.

"No! I did not mean…that is to say…please, stop this!" she cried. "An evil I cannot fathom holds my son and husband hostage! I came here for help! What more do you want from me?" She looked at Teagan once more, "Teagan, I do not have much time! What if it thinks I am betraying it!? It could kill Connor! Please come back with me…must I beg?"

"Tell me about this mage you mentioned." If she and her group were going to do anything, she'd be damned if she wasn't as informed as she could possibly be.

"He is an…infiltrator, I think—one of the castle staff. We discovered he was poisoning my husband. That is why Eamon fell ill."

Bann Teagan looked shocked, "Eamon was poisoned?!"

Isolde nodded before continuing, "He claims an agent of Teyrn Loghain's hired him. He may be lying, however. I cannot say."

Faustine huffed angrily, "Enough questions. We need to decide what to do."

Teagan sighed, looking downcast, "The king is dead, and we need my brother now more than ever. I will return to the castle with you, Isolde."

"Oh, thank the Maker! Bless you Teagan! Bless you!"

"It seems you have little choice," the girl commented.

"I have no illusions of dealing with this evil alone," the bann smiled, wryly. "You, on the other hand have proven quite formidable." He gestured to the arlessa, "Isolde, can you excuse us for a moment? We must confer in private before I return to the castle with you."

The blonde nodded, "Please, do not take too long! I will be by the bridge."

Teagan turned back to the little group and looked Faustine in the eye, "I think it would be best if you entered the castle using the secret passage. My signet ring unlocks the door." He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I'm…hoping that I'll distract whatever evil is inside and increase your chances of getting in unnoticed."

The mage sighed, "I suppose this will be the best way, won't it?"

The bann nodded absently. "Yes, I believe so,' he agreed. "I would prefer to go with you, but I'm afraid I have no choice in this matter."

"We understand," Alistair stated. "It's your brother and nephew at stake."

"Yes," Teagan smiled, though it was somewhat strained. "But whatever you do, Eamon is the priority. If you have to, just get him out of there. Isolde, Connor, me…anyone else…we're expendable.

Faustine shook her head violently, "I don't believe that. We'll make sure everyone is safe."

"You're a good woman. The Maker smiled on me when he sent you to Redcliffe," he praised.

Much to Faustine's chagrin, she blushed and looked down at her feet, "Yes well, let's not make a fuss of it, or anything."

Teagan merely inclined his head, "I can delay no longer. Allow me to bid you farewell, and good luck."

And with that, he departed, leaving Faustine with a sick feeling in her stomach.

* * *

"More undead, that's just brilliant," Alistair commented, sheathing his sword after finishing off the last lich at their current location.

Faustine scoffed, "I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but…"

"Hey! Is there anyone else alive?" someone shouted from one of the cells.

The mage turned to Morrigan and whispered, "There's still someone alive down here?"

Morrigan just made a noncommittal noise and shrugged.

"Your compassion never ceases to amaze me, Morrigan," Alistair commented, rolling his eyes.

"Stop it you two," Faustine whispered as they approached the cell the voice originated from. As they were able to peer into it, Faustine's eyes widened.

"I—it's you!" the prisoner exclaimed.

"Jowan? _You're_ the one who poisoned the arl?"

"You know him?" Alistair asked, incredulous.

"Yes! We were at the Circle together. He _was_ my best friend," she spat, still feeling hurt by his betrayal.

"This is the mage whose phylactery you helped to destroy?" Zevran piped up.

"Hey, you never told me about that!" Alistair complained.

"Is this really the time for this?" The girl remarked. She turned her attention back to Jowan, "I can't believe you tried to kill the arl!"

"I'm not proud of it. The arlessa had no idea what I was hired to do when she took me in to tutor Connor. I…I know it looks suspicious, but I'm not the one responsible for the creatures and the killings in the castle. I was already imprisoned when all that began."

Now _that_ was something Faustine could believe. She'd had a hard enough time believing Jowan was a maleficar. He'd always had such a weak stomach, she was surprised he could handle shedding as much blood as one had to in order to perform _those_ rituals. The monstrous activity in Redcliffe was something Faustine knew would be over the top for someone like Jowan; blood mage or no.

She looked at Jowan, motioning for him to continue his story.

"That was the first I heard about the walking corpses. She thought I'd summoned a demon to torment her family and destroy Redcliffe. She…she had me tortured. There was nothing I could do or say that would appease her. So they…left me to rot.

Faustine fought down the wave of sympathy and revulsion at the mention of torture that came over her. "Why did you poison Arl Eamon?"

"I was instructed to by Teyrn Loghain. I was told that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, that if I dealt with him Loghain would settle matters with the Circle." He sent him former companion an apologetic look, and then looked at the others in her group. "You see, I'm a maleficar; a blood mage," he explained.

"A blood mage! Well _that_ isn't good," Alistair exclaimed, unnecessarily, while giving Faustine a pointed look.

"Really? Huh, 'tis surprising," Morrigan commented, ignoring Alistair as she was wont to do.

"I was in hiding when I was caught, but instead of killing me, Loghain made me an offer. But he's abandoned me, hasn't he? Everything's fallen apart and I'm responsible. I have to make it right somehow."

As much as Faustine wanted to release Jowan, she still needed answers from him, and she couldn't trust him not to run when let out. "Why did the arlessa need a _mage_ to tutor her son?"

"Connor had started to show…signs. Lady Isolde was terrified the Circle of Magi would take him away for training."

'Hmph, she would be," Faustine thought.

"Connor's a mage? I can't believe it…" the templar murmured.

"She sought an apostate to teach her son in secret so he could learn to hide his talent. Her husband had no idea."

The mage nodded thoughtfully, "Perhaps her son is responsible for what happened."

"I thought that too. Connor has little knowledge of magic, but he may have done something to open the Veil."

Well, now wasn't _that_ good news. If the Veil was torn _accidentally_, it would be more unstable, since it would have been done clumsily and with little finesse. Any mage with the most basic training would know that.

Now, Faustine felt she might be asking a stupid question, but she needed to ask it…

"Why would the arlessa be frightened of her son becoming a mage."

…and judging from the look on Jowan's face, he thought it was a little silly as well.

"Because he would be _taken away_. Forever. A mage cannot inherit a title, even the son of a powerful arl. She is also a pious woman. Her son having magic was…humiliating."

"And Arl Eamon had _no_ idea of his son's abilities?" she questioned skeptically.

"No. She was adamant that he never find out. She said he'd do the right thing, even if it meant losing their son. And that infuriated her," Jowan answered.

"And exactly how much magic did you teach Connor?"

"Some, but he's still very young. He can barely cast a minor spell. Never mind something more powerful. At least, not intentionally." The expressions on both mages faces became grim.

"I see," Faustine finally huffed, irritated. It felt like everything went from bad to worse.

"I never meant for it to end like this, I swear! Let me help you fix this!" he pled.

"I don't know," Alistair ventured. "He _is_ a blood mage…but this is an unusual situation…"

"Oh for pity's sake!" Morrigan exclaimed, shooting Alistair a glare. "I say we either have him help or give him the chance to escape.!"

"He's a maleficar!" Alistair cried out. "We can't just let him escape! Who knows who _else_ he would harm!"

"Give me a chance, please!"

"What would you do to help?" Faustine asked, coolly.

"Well, I'd try to help anyone still left alive…"

"That's commendable, if you mean it," she challenged.

"Of course I do! You _know_ me, Faustine!"

"No, I _don't_ know you, Jowan! I never thought you'd practice blood magic in the first place!"

"You don't understand…"

"Um, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt," the assassin cut in. "But whatever your decision is, you should probably make it soon, if this is indeed the work of a demon."

"I hate to agree with _him,_ but he's right," the templar admitted.

Faustine nodded, squared her shoulders and looked Jowan in the eye, "I'm going to let you out, but _don't_ make anything worse."

"Yes, of course not….thank you so much," the mage smiled weakly.

As she released him, she tilted her head toward his and spoke lowly, "Please don't make me regret this, Jowan."

"I won't," he clasped her hand in his. "_You_ won't…I promise."

As he left the corridor, Alistair turned to Faustine and frowned. "Was that really a good idea?"

"Alistair…not now, please?"

"Ah, come now, my good friend Alistair!" Zevran laughed, boisterously. "We have demons to slay and arls to save! Leave our fair Grey Warden be for now with your misgivings and such!"

If possible, Alistair's frown deepened, but nodded and continued on.

As it was, Faustine herself had doubts about letting Jowan go. It was obvious to her that he wasn't exactly the Jowan she remembered from childhood. She could _almost_ excuse the use of blood magic; Jowan had always been the quietly ambitious sort.

But for him to actually poison somebody…even borne out of desperation…

She shook her head. Such thoughts served no purpose at the moment.

* * *

As the group finally made their way to the courtyard at Redcliffe Castle, something in the far northern corner caught Faustine's eye.

"What in hell is that thing?" she whispered harshly, afraid to alert the walking corpses patrolling the area.

"I believe it's call a Revenant. From what I've heard, they're very…unpleasant," Alistair supplied.

"I know that, Alistair! _I. Know. That,_" Faustine bit out. "I know what the bloody hell it is! What do you think we do in the Circle? Knit? We _study_, Alistair!" Her voice was taking on a rather shrill pitch, even while whispering.

"Perhaps this is the wrong time to panic?" the elf interjected, staring at the monster with a hint of trepidation.

"So, now we must fight off hordes of undead, _and_ this Revenant? Wonderful," Morrigan remarked.

"Maybe we could sneak past it?" Alistair asked, doubtfully.

Just as both Faustine and Morrigan looked about ready to kill the templar, Zevran cleared his throat.

"I, er, do not think that will be an option. I believe it has seen-,"

He was interrupted as Faustine let out a shriek as she was pulled towards the creature. Before they could do anything else, Morrigan was also targeted.

Unfortunately, the Revenant's telekinetic pull roused the undead from their state of lethargy, alerting them to Alistair and Zevran's presence as well.

The assassin sighed, "This is going to be unpleasant."

"You don't say!" Alistair shouted.

* * *

"I have to say," Faustine started, as they began making their way into Redcliffe Castle. "I'm not entirely fond of Redcliffe at the moment. Perhaps this was a bad time to visit," she finished, bitingly.

"Well, it wasn't like I _knew_ there would be walking undead terrorizing the town, now was it?" Alistair remarked with a slight smile on his face.

"Yeah, well, you did grow up here."

"And how is _that_ supposed be a reason I would know about what was happening here? Do _you _know everything about the Circle?"

"Don't argue with me."

And so it went for the next few moments until they stumbled across a very…unusual sight.

"Why is the Bann tumbling on the floor?" came Morrigan's inquiry.

"Now that is a very good question," Zevran commented, perhaps needlessly.

As they looked around, they noticed Lady Isolde standing next to a young, blond-haired boy who seemed to be directing everything.

'An abomination,' Faustine thought. She'd never thought she'd see one. He certainly didn't _look_ dangerous, but she supposed that would be dependent on what sort of demon he was possessed by.

"So, these are our visitors? The ones you told me about, Mother?" Connor asked as Faustine and the rest of them came into view.

Lady Isolde was there, looking defeated, "Y-yes Connor."

"And this is the one who defeated my soldiers?" He pointed to Faustine. "The ones I sent to reclaim my village? And now it's staring at me!" he cried out, angrily. Faustine quickly averted her eyes, hoping not to upset the unstable creature in front of her. "What is it, Mother? I can't see it well enough."

"This is a woman, Connor. Like me."

"No!" he snapped. "Not like you. This is a woman you should hate. She is half your age and twice as beautiful. Not to mention she isn't stupid like you are!"

"Connor…_please…_"

"Stop it!" Faustine shouted. "You need to leave them alone!"

"And who are _you_ to tell _me_ what to do? This is _my_ village; nobody tells me what to do! Isn't that right, Uncle?" Connor asked Teagan.

"No-o-o-o body tells _him_ what to do! Nobody! Heeheehahahaha!" the bann cried from his place on the floor.

"I-I'm here to help, Connor," the mage tried, a bit desperately.

The boy looked at her skeptically, "Here to help? Who? Me? My Mother and Father? _Who_ are you here to help?"

"I'm here to help the people you've terrorized."

He looked surprised as he replied, "We were just having a bit of fun! _Weren't_ we?"

"Marmalade!" Teagan cheered.

Faustine and Alistair cringed.

Morrigan stifled a laugh.

Which, in turn, caused Zevran to fight back a snicker himself.

"You're here to put a stop to all of my fun! Well, _I _won't let you! Uncle," he turned to Teagan. "Make sure our _guest_ is properly entertained, would you?"

"Certainly! It'll be marvelous!" he exclaimed as he flipped himself off of the floor.

And with that, Connor disappeared down a corridor, and the bann led the rest of the soldiers to fight.

"You have to be kidding me!" Faustine yelled, frustrated.

It was a short scuffle, which resulted in Teagan being knocked out temporarily, but that seemed to lift whatever thrall Connor, (or the demon), had on all of them.

As Teagan roused, Isolde ran to him to help him up, "Teagan! Are you alright?"

He took her hand gratefully, "Yes, my mind is my own again. Where is Connor?"

"He ran off," Faustine explained. Then she turned to Isolde, angry, "He's an abomination! You kept that from us! We came in here without having any idea of what to expect, when you could have told us that you knew that it was a _demon_ responsible!"

"But he isn't like that all of the time!" Isolde sobbed, clasping her hand to her chest protectively. "He has moments where he doesn't remember what he's done…where he's my little boy again!"

"He's possessed by a _demon_, woman!" Morrigan scolded, resentfully.

A throat cleared somewhat hesitantly, causing everyone to look towards the main door.

"I-I think I may know of a way to help," Jowan mumbled.

"What are _you_ doing here? He's the one responsible for all of this!" the arlessa shouted.

"Please, Lady Isolde! I'm not responsible for what happened to your son!"

"You must have been teaching him blood magic this whole time…you must have!"

"Stop it!" Faustine snapped. "Jowan, how do you think you can help?"

"He's a blood mage!" Alistair exclaimed, aghast. "How can we trust anything he says?"

"We're running out of options, Alistair!" the mage argued.

"How will blood magic be of any help? It's blood magic that caused all of this!"

"There's a way to defeat the demon within the Fade!" Jowan frantically shouted.

Faustine turned to look at her former friend. "Jowan, that ritual takes several mages and a lot of lyrium. We don't have that kind of time."

"There's…a way around that," he admitted. "It requires a lot of life energy…all of it, in fact. It requires a sacrifice, and it will enable a mage to go into the Fade and destroy the demon." He sighed regretfully and looked down. "I shouldn't have brought it up…it isn't much of an option, is it?"

The young mage felt the floor disappear beneath her. A sacrifice? Someone had to _die_? 'But,' she reasoned, 'if we don't do that, then Connor might be the one to die.'

She just couldn't kill a child. Even if he was an abomination.

Everyone's voices began to blur around her, becoming indistinct. She was sure they were arguing, but she couldn't bring the world back into focus…what was she going to do?

"-stine…Faustine!" Alistair jostled her. "You need to make a decision!"

"I-I'm sorry…it's just…this is all a bit much. We only seem to have two options. Either kill Connor-," she was interrupted by a wail from Isolde, "-or someone else sacrifices their life so either Morrigan or myself can go into the Fade and have a _chance_ at destroying the demon."

"We could go to the Circle and ask them for help!" Alistair tried.

"It's too far...we don't have that kind of time," she moaned, despairingly.

"If-if someone must be sacrificed," Isolde spoke up. "Then let it me be."

Teagan glance at her sharply, "Isolde! Eamon would never allow…"

"There is no other option," she stated. "My life so Connor has a chance to live? To me, the choice is easy." The arlessa was resolved; it didn't appear that anyone would be able to change her mind.

"Lady Isolde…are you sure?" Faustine asked, feeling a lead weight settle itself in her stomach.

"Yes, perform the ritual."

* * *

The tone that settled over the camp that night was somber: Morrigan was off at her own camp, ignoring everyone else; Leliana kept glancing over at Faustine with pitying looks; Zevran had sidled a little closer to the mage and kept cracking small jokes to lighten the mood; Sten and likely gone hunting with the mabari; and Alistair hadn't come out of his tent yet.

Going into the Fade this time had been vastly different for Faustine that the Harrowing. It was far more…twisted. People wandering aimlessly, Arl Eamon shouting for his son, the not-Connor popping up everywhere, trying to throw the mage off.

And the overwhelming guilt.

Despite not having any fondness for Isolde, that didn't mean she wanted the older woman dead. But isn't that what a mother was supposed to do? Sacrifice herself so her child may live? She idly thumbed the trinket she'd picked up from Eamon's study, thinking about someone else's mother…

In the end, she'd been able to defeat the demon, without giving into any of the demon's offers.

It had been a Desire demon. She supposed it made sense. Connor had had a desperate yearning to save his father, and had probably come across some books that Jowan probably forgot to secure properly.

And this was the result.

They still had to find a way to cure Eamon, Isolde was dead, and Connor would be carted off to the Circle.

Faustine felt like an axe-murderer.

The Warden heard Alistair's tent rustle as he made his way out of it. She was dreading this moment; she knew he'd want to talk to her about what happened at Redcliffe.

"Faustine, may I have a word with you?" came the curt query.

She nodded, numbly and stood to follow him to an isolated spot away from the camp.

As soon as they were alone, he rounded on her.

"How could you have decided that?" he shouted. "Was it because she looks down on mages? That she thought her son having magic was humiliating? Or because she had your 'friend' locked away for _poisoning_ a man? Are you that vindictive?"

"Alistair! You _know_ that's not what it was like…"

"_NO!_ I don't know that, Faustine! I thought I knew you! We could have gone to the Circle and asked them for help!"

"We didn't have that kind of time! We would have been leaving that village vulnerable for another attack! I didn't want _anyone_ to die!" she cried.

"How am I supposed to tell Eamon his wife is dead, and we were the ones who decided it?"

She felt angry at that; he had left the decision making up to _her_! Everyone had!

"Oh! This isn't about me at all!" she yelled, upset. "This is about you and your relationship with the Arl! I don't want to talk about this anymore! You left the decision making up to me! If you didn't like it, you should have taken the reins yourself!"

She stomped off, trying to swallow the lump in her throat and fend off the stinging in her eyes. She didn't hear Alistair follow, so she assumed he went for a walk to cool down.

When she made it back to camp, she ignored Leliana's endeavor to comfort, and Zevran's attempts at levity and hurried to her tent where she promptly burrowed into her bedroll, fully clothed and all, and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

_**The Magician:** I am That and nothing more._

_The Magician cultivates the ability to manifest thought. The trick is to use the laws of manifestation wisely. Practice the art of appropriate desire; clarity of mind, heart, purpose, and integrity will allow for wish fulfillment. Beware of ego attachment, greed. Excessive attachment to the fruits of action will result in suffering and the pitfalls of fear and greed. Do no abuse power by manipulating words and actions to selfish ends._

* * *

**A/N: First, I'd like to apologize for this horribly belated update! Real life got in the way in an unexpected way, and I hit a bit of a wall for a couple weeks on how to continue this chapter about halfway through. I'd also like to point out that it is unlikely that every chapter is going to be this long. I just couldn't find a good way to end this chapter sooner and still keep in line with the chapter's main theme (the Magician). Also, any and all mistakes in this are mine; I have no beta. I try to proofread my own work, but I'm sure I miss things -_-. I want to thank the people who took the time to review (Irritated Mouse, Sagebeth, and Hunter 48) and I want to thank the people who've placed my story in Favorites, or Alerts. Thank you!**


	4. The Princess of Swords

**Author:** BurningSilence

**Title:** Intersecting Fates

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** DA:O does not belong to be in any way, shape, or form. It belongs to the wonderful people at BioWare who I'm sure have money coming out of their ears. No money is being made from this, so suing would be rather pointless.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter IV: Princess of Swords**

When Faustine awoke, her throat was scratchy and her eyes felt swollen. And she felt a familiar weight lying across her abdomen.

"Good morning, Orion," she rasped, her voice still recovering from the previous night. Orion whined and nuzzled closer to her stomach, content just to lay there.

Faustine laughed softly and scratched the mabari behind his ears. "I need to get up soon," she whispered to him. "It's Morrigan's turn to cook breakfast and I want to see Alistair's face-," she felt her throat close up at the mention of the templar's name.

She couldn't _stand_ for anyone to be angry with her, and Alistair was her _best_ friend. She hated that he seemed to detest her. She cleared her throat and began to sit up.

"Come on, boy. Let's get some breakfast."

Orion whined and began making gagging noises.

"Oh, come _on_! She's a really good cook. You just can't…look at it when you eat. Or…ask her what's in it," she cringed.

* * *

It felt awkward, sitting around the campfire, idly munching on their food while seemingly waiting for another explosion like the night before. Faustine was sitting with Morrigan at the older witch's smaller encampment, while everyone else remained at the main camp. And they all knew why; she was avoiding Alistair.

Which was something Alistair was acutely aware of.

After their argument, he'd felt absolutely _horrible_. He _knew_ the mage didn't want to make that sort of decision, so _why_ in the Maker's name did he have to blurt out the first thing that came to mind in his anger! Despite the fact that Faustine could be _slightly_ vindictive, (he remembered the cursed bedroll when he'd made fun of the new 'robes' she'd acquired when they were leaving the Wilds), he knew she wouldn't make a life-and-death decision based on something as petty as a bruised ego.

He'd had no right to make those accusations.

He resigned himself to speaking to the mage before the day was out, though he supposed he should sooner rather than later. Alistair swallowed heavily. If he wished to speak to Faustine _now_…he'd need to go over to Morrigan's encampment.

Well…maybe he'd wait for a bit yet…

Alistair shook his head; no, he'd need to do something about the situation as soon as possible. He feared if he waited, there may be something worse than rigged bedding waiting for him.

Resolved, he stood up from his spot and began to walk over to Morrigan's camp. As he neared it, he began to feel uneasy and jittery, his stomach churned with anxiety.

'Just…get it over with,' he thought to himself.

Faustine turned around when she noticed someone had walked up behind her, (though, that may have been because Morrigan's countenance became rather frosty), and started when she saw Alistair.

She lifted her chin and responded, "Yes?"

He had the decency to look abashed, and ran his hand through his hair.

"I, er, that is to say…I was hoping to speak with you for a moment?" he stammered.

The mage relaxed when she observed no anger coming from him. She stood up and dusted herself off. "Come on," she coaxed, giving him a small smile for assurance.

He followed the young woman to a more secluded spot away from the camp.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," he rushed.

"Alistair…"

"No! Just…let me get this off of my chest," he implored. "I should have never said any of those things to you…you did the best you could…I know that," he sighed, shifting from one foot to the other. "I suppose I was just hoping with all of the killing and the death going on…we could have salvaged _something_ from that situation."

Faustine nodded, "I know. Believe me, I know that, Alistair. I just didn't see any way around it…and I wasn't about to kill a child. Abomination or not. And I wasn't going to risk the whole village and castle by going to the Circle, when I'm not even sure if they'd help."

When she mentioned that, Alistair looked puzzled. "Why wouldn't they help?"

The mage exhaled slowly, "I didn't leave the Circle under good terms. I suppose I was afraid they'd reject my request simply out of spite."

The templar still had that puzzled expression on his face, causing Faustine to elaborate.

"Remember Jowan?"

"The blood mage?"

"Well, as Zevran mentioned earlier, I helped him destroy his phylactery."

"Yes, that much I got. Why would you do that?"

"He was my _best friend_, Alistair! What would you have done? They were going to make him Tranquil! I still stand by my decision to help him. I just…wish he hadn't made such an…explosive exit," she shook her head, coming out of her musings.

"Explosive exit?"

Faustine held up her hand, "That's not important right now. The fact of the matter is; I felt that the Circle wouldn't want to help, especially if they found out Jowan was involved. As it is, he'll probably be executed for not only poisoning the Arl, but for killing Isolde as well."

"I…I'm sorry…"

"Oh!" she interrupted Alistair, fishing through her purse. "I wanted to give you this," she held out her hand, revealing a pendant with the symbol of Andraste on it. It looked as if it had been painstakingly glued back together.

He reached out and gently took it from her, hesitantly. "This…this is my mother's amulet…Where did you find this?"

The mage looked somewhat sheepish and replied, "The Arl's study."

He snapped his head up quickly, "What were you doing in the Arl's study?"

"That's not important right now, Alistair," she repeated. "What's important is that you've gotten your mum's amulet back."

He looked at her skeptically, "Uh huh…" Then he smiled. "Even though I'm sure you stole it," here, she just shrugged, finding a spot on the ground _very_ interesting, "I'm very glad you gave this to me…I thought I'd lost it because of my own stupidity. Did you remember me telling you about it?"

"Well, yes. Of course I did," she muttered, feeling uncomfortable. "You're important to me, you idiot."

"Oh be still my beating heart," Alistair remarked, dryly. "You _always_ say the _nicest_ things."

She grinned at the templar smugly, "I do, don't I?" She turned serious again, "Alistair…I was thinking…"

"Yeeees?"

"I think we should go to the Circle now."

"Now? Why? I mean, other than the obvious."

"Well, we need to go to Denerim anyway and see if we can find this Brother Genitivi, and Lake Calenhad is along the same route. We might as well kill two birds with one stone," she explained. "Besides," she continued, "it's been a long time since I've been there. And I suppose seeing Jowan again has made me nostalgic. I just wish we'd…we'd…" She broke off with a look of acute misery on her face.

Alistair was quick to reassure her, "I know…you did the best you could. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

"Idiot, you've already apologized. It's just…if I'd been _sure_ there would have been no more attacks, or at least only manageable attacks, on the village while we were gone, I would have taken us to the Circle!" she cried out, clenching her fists.

Alistair could only nod, he understood what she meant. She was starting to doubt her decision. She was wondering if she should have split them up; she, and maybe one other person could have gone to the Circle, and the rest of the group could have been left behind to guard Redcliffe.

He hesitantly reached out to pat her should, causing her to look up at him with a watery smile.

"You did the best you could. Besides, if we'd left, there probably wouldn't have been much of a village to come back too."

"You're _awful_ at comforting!" And she punched him in the shoulder.

"Hey! I bruise easily!"

"Shut up," she laughed.

* * *

"I suppose they've made up now," Leliana speculated, smiling.

"If he had not been such an idiot, there would have been no need," the swamp witch declared.

"When do you suppose we will be able to continue on? There are still many things that need to be done," Sten remarked, apparently disinterested in camp gossip.

"Very soon, I should think," the bard mentioned. "I've noticed that Faustine does not like to stay in one camp for very long."

"She does work us ragged, does she not?" Zevran piped up. "Though, I would not object if she were to 'work' me in a different manner," he leered.

Morrigan rolled her eyes, while Leliana blushed brightly.

"Zevran! There are more important things in life than that!" the red head yelled.

He held his hands up in mock-surrender, "I am merely stating a fact, Leliana. In fact, speaking of young mages, I once met a circle apprentice who was _very_ eager for a taste of the outside world…"

"Zevran!"

The assassin just grinned, clearly amused by the bard's outrage.

As Faustine and Alistair made their way back to camp, they took in their companions' various expressions:

Leliana was red-faced and seemed incredulous about something; Morrigan was sitting on a log, with her hand pressed to her forehead, propping her head up, with an expression that spoke volumes of her annoyance; Zevran looked entirely too satisfied with himself for an assassin; and Sten's standard expression of disdain seemed to have intensified.

The mage turned to her friend and commented, "We miss a lot when we're not in camp, don't we?"

Orion let out a happy bark.

Faustine shook her head, "I don't even want to know." Addressing the group, she continued, "Since we need to find Brother Genitivi in Denerim anyway, we'll also be going to the Circle and see if they'll be of any assistance. Hopefully, the Chantry won't make things too difficult for us."

"The Chantry won't really have a choice; the treaties obligate the Circle to help," Alistair pointed out.

"I know that…but I also know that the Chantry could still make it very difficult for the Circle to do anything," the mage disputed. "We shouldn't be getting into this now, we need to pack up camp and be on our way."

Everyone went to their respective tents and began to tear down the campsite. As Faustine was getting her bedding rolled up, she heard someone let out an agitated sigh. She poked her head out of her tent and saw Morrigan standing over Orion.

"I know it was you rooting in my pack, mongrel."

Orion looked up at the witch and whined.

"Oh, who else would it be? Alistair? He's a likely suspect, I admit, but no."

Faustine saw her dog duck his head, causing her to smile a bit as she went back to packing up her belongings.

"I see you avoided the hemlock," Morrigan pointed out disdainfully. Faustine suppressed a giggle when the dog let out a happy bark. "Yes, yes, very clever. Next time I will disguise it more carefully." There was a pause before Morrigan began speaking again. "Do not even try it! I would not give you a biscuit had I one!"

Another pause, followed by a sigh.

"Oh…very well. But tell no one!"

Faustine cracked up.

* * *

"I wish we had a caravan…or even just a couple of horses!" Faustine exclaimed as they walked north along the Imperial Highway. If they wanted to make it to the Circle within the day, they wouldn't be able to stop for very long.

"We have traveled more difficult places than this," Morrigan stated, eyeing the younger mage with something akin to impatience.

The girl sighed, "I know…I think I'm just…nervous about going back." She grimaced, "I can't imagine Greagoir would be happy to see me…at all."

Alistair winced in sympathy; he knew how…difficult the Knight Commanders could be.

And it certainly sounded like Faustine had gotten on the bad side of one.

If there was even a good side.

"I mean," Faustine continued, "maybe we could just…put it off a little longer?"

At the pointed looks she received, particularly from Sten and Morrigan, the young mage ducked her head down and grumbled under her breath. "Or, you no…we could go straight there, if you all want."

"Was it not your avoidance of your responsibilities that got you into trouble in the first place?" Morrigan stated.

Faustine pouted. "Oh, you're so mean to bring that up," the girl griped.

"Do not whine, girl. You are beginning to sound like Alistair," the swamp witch chided.

"Hey!" Alistair spoke up, irritated.

"Now that's not nice," the mage muttered, causing the templar to shoot an accusatory look to her. "No offense meant, Alistair."

The templar rolled his eyes when Faustine grinned at him.

As they continued on, Faustine let her mind drift; finding it more soothing to think of nothing, than to preoccupy herself with her unease of returning to the Tower. Greagoir wouldn't be happy to see her again. But she'd be able to see her other friends again! Er…other acquaintances, she supposed. The only person she'd be truly close to was Jowan. But there were the other apprentices; Tamsin, Alodia, Linette…and Cullen.

Thinking about the copper-haired templar brought a soft wave of heat to her face. There was once a time when she had fancied herself in love with the man, though, she supposed it had just been an adolescent crush. He had seemed to personify the archetypal 'knight-in-shining-armour'. Cullen had always been very kind to her. But not just to her, to the other apprentices as well. Even when they were children. He wasn't like the other initiates when they were younger; he never harassed them. Not like most of the others. The templars often seemed willing to look the other way, and there was only so much that the Enchanter's could do.

At the Tower, she had found herself going out of her way to speak to Cullen, and he always seemed genuinely happy to see her. It would be nice to be able to visit with him when they arrived.

Faustine brought herself out of her musings as she heard her friends begin to chat once again. She knew that they thought she didn't often pay attention to what they said during trips, but listening to them bicker back and forth with each other often proved to be an amusing distraction to whatever apprehension she felt.

"You are very beautiful, Morrigan," Leliana remarked.

The swamp witch scoffed, "Tell me something I do not know."

Faustine rolled her eyes and smirked when she heard Zev and Alistair stifle chuckles.

"But you always dress in such rags!" the bard exclaimed, exasperated. "It suits you, I suppose. A little tear here, a little rip there to show some skin. I understand."

'_Some_ skin?' the young mage thought incredulously. While she adored Morrigan, the clothing she wore made even her Chasind robes seem almost…modest.

However Faustine was not above admitting she was jealous of Morrigan's appearance; all tall, and curvaceous. Absolutely beautiful. And she actually looked like an adult. Not like herself. She was still shorter than she'd like, and tended to be mistaken as being several years younger than she actually was. And on one memorable occasion, she was mistaken for an elf. Of course, the apprentice was drunk and was also under the impression that he was the empress of Orlais, but still… Leliana had said it was her face, but she had the feeling the bard was trying to spare her feelings.

"You understand that I lived in a forest, I hope?" the witch remarked. A quick glance back told Faustine that Morrigan was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

The red-haired woman continued on, undeterred, "Maybe we could get you in a nice dress one day. Silk. No, maybe velvet. Velvet is heavier, better to guard against the cold in Ferelden. Dark red velvet, yes. With gold embroidery. It should be cut low in the front of course, we don't want to hide your features."

"Stop looking at my breasts like that! 'Tis most disturbing!"

"Actually," Faustine heard Zevran mutter, seemingly to Alistair, "I'd prefer if she continued to do so," causing poor Alistair to choke and the mage to muffle her laugh. The elf slapped the blond on the back a couple times, laughing the whole time.

"You don't think so? And if it's cut low in the front, we must put your hair up to show off that lovely neck."

"You are insane. I would sooner let Alistair dress me!"

"It'll be fun, I promise! We'll buy some shoes too. Ah, shoes! We could go shopping together!" Leliana's mind was already going a thousand miles a minute planning a future shopping expedition for them, imagining all of the clothing they could try on, the jewelry…and the shoes!

At the sound of 'shopping' Faustine became much more interested in their conversation. "Shopping? Oh, could I go? I've never been shopping for anything like that! Recently, it's only ever been for supplies."

Leliana looked completely thrilled. "Yes, all three of us could go! We'll make it a girl's trip!"

"I'll get to buy a dress!"

"We could get our hair done, and everything!"

Morrigan began to creep ever-so-slowly away from the two women who seemed intent on dragging her along on whatever madness they wanted to embark on. She'd prefer the Blight to this.

"We should go to Denerim!" Leliana exclaimed. "They carry more Orlesian fashions there. Let's see, if we go in spring, we should put you in a nice, soft colour…like a light blue! In silk. Ooooh, I can't wait!"

"Oh, I love blue! And what about gold? But…maybe I'm thinking too much of my mage's robes…"

Morrigan sighed, "And this is one of the fabled Grey Wardens. With Alistair as the other. Truly, we are all doomed."

"No, I think gold would look lovely on you! We could do your hair up with gold ribbons! And maybe pearls. It'll look wonderful!" the bard exclaimed. "Oh, I haven't been on a decent shopping trip since I left Orlais…"

* * *

Several hours, a dozen arguments, and a couple skirmishes later, they found themselves at the Lake Calenhad docks.

"How very fitting that they would build a prison for mages in the middle of a lake and make it look like a giant phallus," Morrigan commented, dryly.

"I…never quite thought of it that way," Faustine stated, taken off-guard by her friend's remark. "It feels…different than before."

That seemed to catch Morrigan's attention. "How so?"

"I-I don't know how to explain it. I've lived here for so many years…the area around it is…muzzy."

"There does seem to be something strange about it," Alistair spoke up.

"And what would you know?"

"He's a templar," Faustine cut in, before a squabble could start. "I would be surprised if he didn't notice anything. It's not unusual for you to not notice it, since you've never been here. And I'm sure you don't exactly have the highest opinion of the Circle," the girl finished, grinning.

Morrigan scoffed, looking around her in revulsion.

"You know, Morrigan, the Circle is also intended to keep mages safe as well, right?" Alistair sighed.

"Is that what you tell those children and their families as you separate them from one another?"

"Oh, I didn't think you'd care."

"I do not. I just find your Chantry's hypocrisy interesting. Orphaning children because they are born with talents that they cannot understand…"

Faustine looked around, ignoring her two companions, her eyes falling on something in particular…or rather, someone.

"Kester?" she inquired as she jogged towards the tavern 'The Spoiled Princess'.

The old man glanced up in surprise, "Well, look at this! I remember taking you across when you left with that fellow, Duncan!"

The mage rubbed the back of her neck, feeling a little sheepish, "Yeah, that was me."

"And now you're a Grey Warden…my pap used to tell me stories about them. I'm sure you're doing them proud." To Faustine's increasing awkwardness, he continued on, "Before that, I hadn't seen you since you were a little girl, no taller than my knee! You were such a skittish thing then!" Noticing her discomfiture, he smiled gently. "I'm sorry, dear. I'm sure I'm embarrassing you. It's just that I rarely see any of the children I ferry to the Tower again. Only the ones who are let out for official Circle business."

"Or the ones who become Grey Wardens, apparently," Faustine mentioned.

The man let out a laugh, "True! But, now that I think of it, what are you doing back here?"

"Well…I need to get to the Tower. We need the mage's support with the upcoming Blight."

Kester suddenly seemed much more subdued, "You might have some trouble getting there."

"You can't take us?"

"Greagoir removed me from my post."

"What? You've always been the ferryman! What happened?"

"Don't know, honestly. Just that one day, the Knight-Commander came down to the docks, said they had everything under control and I didn't need to worry about my ferry for the time being. Load of bollocks is what I think! I think something's going on; something they don't want getting out."

"Suddenly I am filled with confidence," Zevran said.

"If you want to get across, you'll have to talk to the templar, Carroll, over at the dock," Kester continued.

"I can't imagine he'll be too accommodating. Especially to a mage," she muttered.

"You are a Warden as well, you'd best act like it," came Morrigan's sharp rebuke. Apparently she was done ripping into Alistair. "And, if he refuses to take us across, we'll simply have to _make_ him."

"I…don't like how eager you sound for it to come to that," Alistair pointed out.

Faustine snickered. She remembered Carroll. He was a horrid little man, always picking on the younger apprentices. Always had something smart to say to the Enchanter's as well. She wouldn't be too terribly broken up if they did have to rough him up a bit. In fact, a tiny (or not-so-tiny) part of her was hoping that they _would_ have to.

"Thank you, Kester. You've been a lot of help," she smiled at the man, as she turned to walk towards the docks.

"So…who wants to go?" 'Please don't make me go by myself…_please_ don't make me go by myself,' the girl thought.

"Get that look off of your face. I will go. There is a tome I remember Flemeth mentioning being here. I would very much like to see it for myself," Morrigan said, a calculating glint in her eye.

Alistair cleared his throat, "I'll go too, if that's alright. I've always wanted to see the inside of the Tower. And, you know, find out what I might have done had I not been recruited."

"I'd like to go to, there is a rumour in Antiva about the Circle Tower…I wish to find out if it is true," Zevran quipped, smiling impishly at the girl.

"I'm afraid to ask," Faustine responded. "Anyone else?"

"I think Sten and I can set up camp, that way, you don't have to worry about it when you get back," Leliana told the mage. "Besides, I don't think Sten would feel too comfortable around so many mages."

"I simply wish that your people held a more civilized attitude towards magic. That is all," the qunari spoke up.

Faustine felt herself bristle at the comment, and she was sure Morrigan felt just as affronted. As if they weren't treated badly enough by the Chantry…

Leliana's nervous laughter cut off the younger girl's musings, "Well, we better get started, then." She crouched down and called Orion over to her. The dog looked towards Faustine first, and when she waved him towards the bard, he trotted over to her happily.

As the group of four made their way to the dock, Carroll walked slowly up to meet them. "And where do you think _you're_ going?"

"We need to get to the Tower,"

"I'm under strict orders from the Knight-Commander himself that no one is to cross," the templar replied smugly.

Faustine felt her patience grow thin. She clenched her teeth and bit out, "Look, I'm a Grey Warden and I need to get into the Circle _right now_!"

Alistair cast her a wary glance, worried she might be at the end of her tether for the day. It _had_ been a long day, and they probably should have rested before attempting to get into the Tower.

"Ohhh, you're a Grey Warden are you? Prove it."

Without saying anything, Faustine shoved the treaties at the infuriating templar. He just glimpsed at them before smirking _again_ at the frustrated woman and shot off another smart comment, "I have documents too, you know. They say I'm the queen of Antiva. What do you think of that?"

"Mine are actually real."

"Kill some darkspawn. Come on, let's see some righteous Grey Wardening."

"There aren't any darkspawn here," Faustine bit out.

"That's good, I suppose. Wouldn't want to get darkspawn smeared across the landscape. I hear their blood is black. Is that true? You'd know that if you were a Grey Warden," Carroll heckled.

"It's not black, but it burns you when it touches you," she taunted.

"Oh, pleasant, eh? Good thing I don't have to kill them. Anyway, nice chatting with you. Now on your way. Right now. Go," he dismissed them, waving his hand as if he were shooing his dog.

"Your superior won't like it that you've given me trouble," she ground through clenched teeth. Carroll always could get under her skin like no other. She had the overwhelming urge to punch him in the face.

"Oh really? You think Greagoir would be upset with me for not letting you in?" Then Carroll paused, "Wait…actually, he would." He heaved a sigh and gestured to the small ferry. "He's the big guy around here. I bet he could deal with a couple Grey Wardens, _alleged_ Grey Wardens."

With a huff, Faustine led the small group into the boat and Carroll began maneuvering it towards the increasingly ominous Tower. She _almost_ felt sorry for Carroll when she saw the venomous look Morrigan cast towards him. Almost.

She hoped Morrigan would turn him into a toad. Or did whatever it was the Witches of the Wilds did to their victims. She hoped it was horrible.

The thought made her snicker, breaking the nearly uncomfortable silence.

Zevran began to nervously look around at the surrounding lake. It was a few more seconds before he spoke up, "Uh, do you think there are magical beasts swimming in the lake, guarding their magical tower?"

Faustine scoffed, "I wouldn't doubt it, what with all the strange and _highly_ experimental potions they dump in here. But that's usually if something in the brewing process goes wrong. _Very_ wrong." She let a smirk grace her features. "So, if I were any of you, I would keep my arms and legs inside the boat at all times."

* * *

"_I love you! Don't you want to stay with me? There's no Circle…no Chantry…just us, my love…"_

"No…go away! Leave me be!" a templar cried out, crouching down in his prison, clenching his fists tightly by his head. "Stop showing me these things!"

"_But we can be together forever, darling!"_

"Please leave!"

The being materialized before the shaken templar and laid her head on his chest. She looked up at him with Faustine's eyes and pressed her lips to his, sliding her tongue between his slack lips. When she pulled away, she stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear, "Together forever and ever, ever and ever my darling."

He shoved her away from him, snarling angrily as she collapsed on the ground, feigning heartbreak.

"You will not tempt me anymore, demon! I am strong enough to resist you…now begone!"

Her visage took on a smug expression, her eyes bright and mischievous before she vanished.

"_Forever and ever, ever and ever, ever and ever…"_

He collapsed against the magical barrier, shaking with barely suppressed emotion as he continued to hear the demon's taunting voice in his head.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Princess of Swords:**__ Active. Brave. Clever. Can be domineering. Skilled. Commanding. Impetuous. Heroism. Can also be belligerent. Conceited. Deceitful. Impulsive. Secretive._

* * *

**A/N:** So, this was a bit of a filler chapter…and a very late one at that. Goodness it's been a while since I've last updated. And for that, I deeply apologize. Crazy things are going on in Real Life, things that I couldn't be distracted from. The next chapter will (hopefully) be out soon, as I've already started it before I posted this. Hee, I'm actually excited about this one, since it's based around one of my favourite cards, which I found immensely appropriate given the setting: The Tower.


	5. The Tower

**Author:** BurningSilence

**Title:** Intersecting Fates

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** DA:O does not belong to be in any way, shape, or form. It belongs to the wonderful people at BioWare who I'm sure have money coming out of their ears. No money is being made from this, so suing would be rather pointless.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter V: The Tower (part I)**

When they stepped into the main entry hall of the Tower, Faustine's feeling of dread multiplied tenfold as she saw the templars running about, and Greagoir barking out orders as if he'd never get another chance.

That, coupled with the fact the main door was shut and barred, made her feel amazingly disturbed.

"As I recall from my time as a templar, locking the door and throwing away the key was 'plan B'," she heard Alistair mention.

"…and I want two men stationed within sight of the doors at all times. Do not open the doors without my express consent. Is that clear?" the Knight-Commander questioned one of the templars. Faustine couldn't tell who it was; they were all wearing their helms.

"Yes sir."

"The doors are barred," Alistair murmured to his friend. "Are they keeping people out? Or in?"

Faustine had a feeling that she _really_ wouldn't like what the answer would be.

She cautiously stepped up to Greagoir, "What's going on here?"

He turned around with a huff. "I don't have time to entertain visitors…" he trailed off when he saw who had disturbed him. "Well, look who's back. A proper Grey Warden now, are we? Glad you're not dead."

"Oh, you don't mean that," she drawled, already feeling herself grow exasperated. Greagoir never did like her…

"Hmph, perhaps," he admitted without shame. "Now, we're dealing with a situation that doesn't involve you, _Grey Warden_."

"This tower was my home," she argued. "I want to know what's happened."

He seemed to think it over for a bit, before resigning himself to getting her up to date on the recent happenings at the Circle. "I shall speak plainly then: the Circle is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the tower's halls." He began to pace, running his hand through his graying hair. "We were too complacent," he lamented. "First Jowan, now this. Don't think I've forgotten your role in Jowan's escape."

"I'm glad he got away from you!"

"I can only hope that someday Jowan gets what he deserves. But right now, I have other concerns."

At the reminder of something being very wrong in the tower, Faustine immediately calmed down. It would do her no good to further anger Greagoir.

"What's happened to the First Enchanter?" she queried nervously.

The older man sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"We don't know. We saw only demons, hunting templars and mages alike. I realized we could not defeat them, and I told my men to flee."

Faustine wrung her hands in worry, trying to settle herself. Abominations…again. And she had a feeling these ones wouldn't be like Connor Guerrein.

They would be much less cute.

"I have already sent word to Denerim for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment."

"How can you even think of annulling the entire Circle!" Faustine shouted. "There are _children_ in there!"

Alistair put a hand on the outraged mage's shoulder. "The mages are probably already dead. Any abominations remaining in there must be dealt with no matter what," he told her gently. He cringed when she rounded on him.

"The mages are not defenseless! There must still be some that are alive!"

"This is a dire situation," Greagoir spoke. "There is _no alternative_. Everything in the tower must be destroyed so that it can be made safe again."

Faustine opened her mouth to argue, but the commander held up his hand. "If any mages are still alive in there, then the Maker himself shielded them. No one could have survived those monsters." He shut his eyes tightly, a rare show of agony on his face. "It is too painful to hope for survivors and find…nothing."

"But it was you that shut them in!" the brunette shrieked, feeling her emotions begin to spiral out of her control. Everyone she ever new was going to die.

"And what was I to do," Greagoir snapped. "Leave the door open as the abominations poured out?"

Alistair grasped her shoulder again, turning her to look at him. "He…he's right," he tried to convince his friend. Despite his own misgivings towards most mages, he took no joy in the situation at all. And even less so for the sole fact it caused Faustine so much pain. "All the Circles have doors like these, to prevent abominations from…getting loose."

"Denerim must have received our message. It cannot be much longer now."

Greagoir's words were like a blade to her lungs itself, practically obliterating any hope Faustine might have had.

"You can't just cull the entire Circle…it's too much," she tried, her voice cracking as she held back tears that were threatening to fall. She wouldn't cry, not again, not this soon after Redcliffe. She wasn't a little girl anymore.

"These are not the same mages you remember," Greagoir continued, he voice uncharacteristically gentle. "They are abominations. To save their souls, you must harden your heart." He straightened up a bit more, looking more like the resolute man Faustine had known during her apprenticeship. "It is the innocent folk of Ferelden who matter. I would lay down my life, and the life of any mage, to protect them. No abomination must cross this threshold."

His determination served as a bit of inspiration for the young woman. She wouldn't just accept that all of the mages were dead…or worse. They couldn't be. Quite a few of the apprentices had been very promising, and a full-fledged mage was a formidable opponent. Not to mention any of the Enchanters, the Senior Enchanters…some _had_ to live.

"I have to try. It's the right thing to do."

Greagoir looked like he was about to argue with her, but slumped his shoulders and nodded instead. "A word of caution…one you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe. I will only believe it if the First Enchanter himself tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen…then the Circle is lost and must be destroyed."

When Faustine showed no sign of wavering from her goal, the Knight-Commander sighed, "May Andraste watch over you."

She nodded, and then turned to her companions. "Come on, let's go."

And with an ominous slam, the templars sealed the door.

* * *

"Have you ever heard the saying 'let sleeping abominations lie'? Now would be the time to consider it," Zevran commented.

"Hah, too late for that, now," Alistair told him.

"We wouldn't be going back, even if we could," Faustine snapped. Alistair looked cowed, and Zevran raised his eyebrows, seemingly affronted. She dropped her gaze, embarrassed for reacting so harshly. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm just…upset." She rubbed the back of her neck as they continued to inspect the apprentice dorms. "It's too quiet," she murmured.

"I believe that is what happens when you have abominations and templars running about, ready to slaughter every mage in sight," Morrigan pointed out.

Alistair shot her a venomous look, "Oh yes, very sensitive. Why don't you kick her in the head while you're at it?"

The witch rolled her eyes, "She may as well come to terms with the fact her friends are all probably dead. Or would be better off dead. There is no point in sheltering her."

"Now I'm filled with confidence," Faustine sniped. "They _can't_ all be dead. If they were, there would be abominations here too. Something's kept them away from here. I can feel it."

Suddenly, there was a loud crashing sound, followed by an explosion. Faustine took off in the direction it seemed to be coming from, much to the consternation of her fellow companions. They ran to keep up with her, and finally came to a stop inside what looked to be the inner most corridor before the stairs.

"Don't just take off like that!" Alistair shouted, worried about the young woman.

"Shhh," Faustine scolded. "Look!"

The young mage pointed to a small group of people, just two women, a man, and a few children. There was a fading rage demon at the older woman's feet. As well as a barrier separating them from the centre spire.

"Hey, she looks familiar," the templar mentioned.

"Yeah, she was one of the mages at Ostagar. Wynne, I believe," Faustine reminded. "I'm glad she was able to get out of there. I believe Uldred was there as well."

As they made their way closer to the group, Wynne turned around and regarded Faustine in surprise.

"You've returned to the tower? Why did the templars let you through? Are you here to warn us?"

"I told Greagoir that I would investigate the tower. They…they've sent for the Right of Annulment," Faustine admitted. "But it hasn't arrived yet!" she hastened to reassure the older woman.

"They did send for it then," Wynne muttered, however, she seemed rather accepting of the fact. "I rather feared they would," she confessed. "What else could they do? Greagoir probably assumes that we are all dead." The senior enchanter began to pace, folding her hands in front of her. "They abandoned us to our fate, but even trapped as we are, we have survived," she stated, with a touch of pride. "But if they invoke the Right, we won't be able to stand against them."

"Greagoir will call off the Right, but only if the First Enchanter says that it's safe," Faustine informed. She bit her lip, her brows furrowed in anxiety. "What…exactly happened here?"

Wynne scowled angrily, recalling the events that caused their current situation. "Let it suffice to say that we had something of a revolt on our hands, led by Uldred."

"Uldred?" Faustine was shocked. The First Enchanter had relied heavily on Uldred's ability to seek out blood mages. For it to be _Uldred_, of all people, to be behind this…it was almost unthinkable.

"Yes…I thought the same," Wynne remarked. "When we arrived back from Ostagar, he tried to take over the Circle. As you can see, it didn't work out the way he planned," she stated, gesturing around her. "I don't know what became of Uldred, but I am certain that all of this is his doing. I will not lose the Circle to one man's pride and stupidity."

"Is Irving still alive?" Faustine asked, fearing the answer.

"If anyone could survive this, it's Irving," Wynne replied with confidence.

"Then we have to get him."

"You won't be able enter the tower as long as my barrier holds, but I will dispel it if you are going to help me save the Circle," the enchanter bargained.

Faustine thought the ultimatum was needless, but she could understand older woman's caution.

"Of course I'll help. I may not have liked it here, but it was still my home. Or at least, the closest place I could consider a home." She paused, looking back at the children huddling together out of fright. "Will the children be safe here?"

"Petra and Kinnon will watch them. If we kill every demon and abomination that happens to cross us, none will get by to threaten the children. But we should hurry," Wynne cautioned. "Every moment we waste standing here, the smaller the chance of any of the remaining mages surviving."

"Alright," Faustine agreed. "If you think that's wise…"

"You want us to assist this preachy schoolmistress? These…pathetic excuses for mages?" Morrigan questioned, her expression incredulous. "They _allowed_ themselves to be corralled like cattle, and now their masters have chosen death for them." She sneered at the other mages and Wynne. "I say, let them have it."

Faustine felt a bit hurt; though she loathed to show it. "I was a Circle mage," she murmured. "And you could have been too," the younger woman pointed out.

The witch rolled her eyes. "I could be here, had my mother not shielded me from the templars, so I am to show sympathy?" her voice was sharp, and for a moment, Faustine was sure she had failed to get through to Morrigan. Then, the woman's expression grew oddly thoughtful, "My mother often said that things were the way they are because they could be no other way. I have always questioned this." She shrugged her shoulders, and affected the image of total nonchalance. "Do what you wish, I care not."

Just as she was about to thank her friend, Faustine cringed. She needed to ask a small favour of Morrigan. She gestured for Morrigan to follow her a small distance away from the rest of the group, signaling that she'd be back in a few moments.

At Morrigan's questioning look, she made her request. "Would you mind…staying behind and helping watch over the children?"

Morrigan raised her eyebrow, giving Faustine her best, 'are you kidding me?' expression. Faustine hurried to explain herself. "Y-you're a much better mage than they are. You have abilities they wouldn't learn here, that they couldn't even dream of…and I know you to be scarier than any demon," she rushed with a little half-smile. "You would certainly give any demon pause before trying to take you on."

The witch let out an impatient sigh, but acquiesced. "Very well. I will help to keep an eye on the children…and the other mages."

"Thank you Morrigan."

* * *

"Well, here it is. I'm rather amazed with myself for being able to hold it for so long," Wynne mused as she led them to the alcove she had placed her barrier.

"You did what you had to do," the younger mage stated.

"It did make me very weary at times, but I had to stay strong to keep us safe." She took a deep breath, and turned to face the other woman. "Stay on guard; I do not know exactly what we'll encounter past this barrier."

"Do not fear, my good lady," Zevran cut in, flashing a winning smile. "Our Grey Warden is very good at fending off attackers." He cast Faustine a sidelong glance and winked. "I am, of course, speaking from personal experience."

Alistair rolled his eyes, causing Faustine to laugh softly.

"We should get going," the girl stated, eyeing the barrier with some trepidation.

As Wynne tore down the barrier, Faustine glanced back in time to notice Morrigan making threatening gestures to the apprentices. Noticing Petra's wide-eyed terror, despite the dire situation they all found themselves in, Faustine couldn't help but to laugh.

Unfortunately, that levity wouldn't last long.

* * *

"What is the matter?" Zevran asked, noticing the sudden change in the Warden's behavior.

Faustine looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head. "Oh, it's nothing. I just thought I…" she sighed. "Never mind. I suppose this place is just getting to me."

"Didn't you used to live here?" Alistair questioned.

She gave him a pointed look. "Yes, Alistair, I _did_ live here. But that was _before_ blood mages decided to try their hand at a hostile takeover."

"Ah, fair enough."

The mage rolled her eyes in exasperation. She loved Alistair; really, she did. He was her best friend, and probably the sweetest man she knew, but sometimes…she huffed once again, shaking her head.

She turned when she heard Zevran make a noise of displeasure. The mage saw him eyeing a suspicious fleshy sack with a cringe on his face. "Now I regret that extra serving at breakfast," she heard him mutter.

"Huh, I wonder what they're made out of," Faustine wondered out loud.

Both Alistair and Zevran turned an unflattering shade of green at her musings, while Wynne fixed her with a cool look. "What? Like no one else is wondering the same thing," she ducked her head, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break free.

"I'm trying _not_ to, if it's all the same," Alistair grumbled.

They split up to check out each of the rooms along the corridor, treading as gently as they could. When it appeared that their current level was clear, the met up in the First Enchanter's office.

"What are you doing?" Wynne asked Faustine when she noticed the girl going through Irving's desk.

The younger woman blushed. "There might be something useful in here!" she exclaimed, a touch defensively.

Zevran couldn't help but snort at her explanation. While her reason may be true, in the short amount of time they'd traveled together, and despite the fact she _was_ a good woman, he'd also come to know the Warden as someone who could be slightly power hungry, always searching for ways to stretch and increase her magical prowess. He supposed the First Enchanter's office would be a good place to start.

And she could be incredibly nosy, as well.

He noticed her pick up a black tome and hurriedly stuff it into her satchel. At his questioning look, she made a face at him, causing him to let out a soft chuckle.

When Alistair and Wynne were out of ear shot, he walked up beside her and asked, "And what was that book you decided to grab?"

"None of your business?"

"Your secret will be safe with me," he quipped.

"Oh, shut it," she snapped, playfully. "It's no big deal; I just thought it was something Morrigan would want to look at."

"And why would you care if our lovely swamp witch would enjoy reading this?"

She arched her eyebrow, "None of your business?"

"Ah, fine. Play it that way," he sighed in mock-hurt.

"You'll get over it," she teased. "But, if you _must_ know, she was kind enough to show me how to change my form. I can only change into a spider right now, but she's promised to keep teaching me until I'm as good as she is."

"Already dabbling in magic not sanctioned by the Chantry? For shame, my dear," Zevran laughed.

"Oh…shut it."

* * *

"Do any of you…notice anything odd?" Alistair queried as they walked around the Templar quarters.

"Besides the abominations?" Faustine asked dryly. "Oh, and the walking dead…and the Arcane Horrors?"

He gave her a mock-glare and answered, "Yes, besides those."

She gave the templar a soft smile, "Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing. There's something…strange near this room." She gestured towards one of the smaller rooms. "I've never actually been up here before, though."

"Why not?"

"Mages are not permitted up here," Wynne answered for Faustine. "These are the templars' rooms."

"For some reason, I always thought they'd be more…I don't know, interesting," Faustine mused. "Of course, anything was nicer than the apprentices' dorms. A pity I didn't get to stay in the mages' rooms."

"You were recruited," Wynne stated simply.

"I didn't really have all that much of a choice. I helped a blood mage escape," the younger mage admitted sheepishly. "It was either that, or Greagoir would have had me killed, or made Tranquil." She shook her head, "I don't think he's ever really liked me."

"Yes, I remember hearing about that when I got back from Ostagar," Wynne said. At Faustine's shrug, the senior enchanter smiled, "Do not worry about the past. You thought you were doing the right thing at the time."

"I still would have done it, I just-,"

"Do you hear that?" Zevran interrupted.

Faustine strained her ears, and could just barely make out the sound of a man and woman speaking to each other.

"It is coming from that room," the assassin pointed out.

"The woman's voice sounds strange," Alistair mused.

Zevran walked to the door and gently opened it. Careful, as to not make any unnecessary noise, the others followed, only to be met with a disturbing sight:

A templar, standing in front of a Desire demon, unseeing and practically unmoving, his face in a parody of bliss.

Faustine felt her jaw drop.

"Everything is just as you wanted, my knight. Our love and our family is all that you could have ever hoped for," the demon whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Upon seeing the templar's expression, Faustine ignored common sense and stepped inside the room.

"What in Andraste's name is going on in here?"

The templar turned to the demon, smiling and looking for all intents and purposes like a man in love. "Did you hear something, love?"

"It is nothing, my darling. Just the door, I will get it." The demon placed a soft kiss on the templar's cheek and added, "The children have finished their supper. Tuck them into bed while I see who it is."

The man grinned, "Don't be too long, the children will want to kiss you good night."

'Creepy,' was Faustine's only thought. The illusions that Desire demons could create were incredibly complex and…realistic. Or, at least, that's what she'd heard.

"You are intruding upon a loving, intimate moment. And I dislike interruptions," the demon purred at the group.

"There's nothing loving or intimate going on here," Faustine snapped.

"I have given him what he's always wanted. Something that I've noticed many of these knights here have wanted: A wife, children, and a simple, quiet life. Where is the harm in me fulfilling these desires?"

"His happiness is an illusion!" the mage cried, angry at the demon.

"All emotion is intangible. You cannot see it, cannot grasp it," the demon reasoned.

"But it is normally caused by something that _is_ real. Real events, real people. What you've done to that poor man is…abhorrent," Wynne interjected.

"I saw his loneliness and offered a way out."

"Hmm," Zevran hummed. "Companionship that is only in the mind; all of the fun, none of the clean up."

Faustine shot the blond elf a venomous look that caused him to chuckle, despite the situation.

"Ignore him, he doesn't know what he's talking about," the girl muttered.

"No one else would have known his heart. He did not know it himself."

"He made his peace with his place! They all knew what being a templar entailed!" Faustine exclaimed. "He didn't need you to go through his thoughts; through his wishes…you've made him into your slave!"

"I fulfill his dreams…I grant him all of his desires. Is he my slave, or am I his? We are partners. I give him what no one else can, and through him, I experience what it is to be mortal."

"I know how the damned bond works," she stated. "You're nothing but a parasite that needs to be removed."

"If you know how the bond works, then you know that if one of us perishes, the other will as well."

"It would be better that he die now, than to let his soul be sucked out by you."

The demon's expression turned pensive for a moment, before she turned back to the templar. "Help! There are bandits at the door! They're going to murder the children!"

"They will not get past me!" the bewitched man yelled.

"Oh, hell," was the only thing Faustine could thing to say as the templar used the hilt of his sword to strike against her temple, stunning her momentarily.

Before they knew what was going on, they were swarmed by other templars that were caught in the Desire demon's thrall.

She rolled out of the way just in time as a templar's sword bore down on her.

"We need to destroy the demon!" Wynne shouted. "We need to end her hold over the templars!"

"But won't they die too?" Alistair asked.

"Do you truly care right now?" Zevran inquired, dodging a blow.

Faustine used a simple Mind Blast spell to delay the knights, and sent a bolt of electricity to the demon. Alistair used his shield to knock the demon off balance, giving Faustine time to cast a Mortality hex on the creature.

Things appeared to be going well until a couple of templars managed to break free from the stunning effects of Faustine's previous spell. Zevran was able to cripple one, but not the other, and Faustine was struck again, but this time, to the back of the head.

"Oh…this is no good," she murmured before passing out.

"Damn it!" Alistair shouted.

"We need to finish this!" Wynne yelled, trying to repel the remaining templars. The older mage used a stone fist to pummel the demon, giving Alistair the time to decapitate her. As soon as the demon was finished, the remaining two templars collapsed, their energy all used up.

Alistair rushed over to Faustine, lifting her head to lie on his lap. "Is she going to be alright?"

Wynne knelt down and felt along the back of the younger woman's head. "Yes, I believe she will be alright. I should be able to revive her and heal her injuries," the mage stated.

It was a little startling for Alistair to see Faustine felled in battle. Normally she was able to stay (mostly) out of harm's way. He glanced up and noticed Zevran casting a worried look down at Faustine.

After reviving the girl, Wynne set about tending to her injuries, causing Faustine to continuously flinch. Wynne just rolled her eyes and smiled gently down at the younger mage.

"I'm assuming we won?" she queried, beginning to sit up.

"Are you feeling better?" Zevran asked as he helped her up.

"As well as one can feel for having been struck on the head…twice," she stated, struggling to her feet even with the elf's help. "So, I suppose I feel a little muzzy."

"Muzzy?" the elf questioned.

"It will still be tender for a little while," Wynne informed her. "But you should be fine. Next time, you might want to stay away from attackers who specialize in melee combat," she teased.

"I'll keep that in mind," Faustine remarked dryly. "We need to find Uldred. Quickly. This has gone on long enough."

"Indeed it has. But so far, we've been through most of the tower, and still no sign of him, or the others," the enchanter mentioned. If anything, it was the fact that they hadn't come across any survivors other than a couple rogue blood mages, (that Faustine had let escape) that had her worried. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if the other mages were dead.

"There are a couple more levels, though, they have to be here somewhere," Faustine insisted.

Wynne smiled, grateful for the girl's optimism. She sighed and muttered, "I certainly hope so."

As they began walking once again, Faustine huffed. "You know, just once, I would like for things to be just a little easy," the younger mage mused. "I'm not trying to be lazy, or anything. But I would like to be able to show one of these treaties to someone, and for them so say, 'You need help? Sure! No problem! We'll have our troops ready in a couple days!' But, no, everyone has some sort of crisis on their hands."

"Becoming frustrated?" Zevran quipped.

"I'm getting bloody _tired_," she griped.

The elf laughed and clapped her on the back. "I believe we all are, my Grey Warden."

"I am not _yours_," she muttered, but made no attempt to remove his arm.

He affected a distraught expression and continued on, "But I have pledged myself to you! Does that mean nothing?"

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, a reluctant grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, "Don't make it sound like a marriage proposal. You _did_ try to kill me, you know."

"But that was such a long time ago, my dear. Surely, you have forgiven me for such a grievous action. "

"It was only a few weeks ago," she replied, deadpanned.

"Someone in your position can't take these things so personally," Zevran explained, dismissively.

Faustine opened her mouth to retort when Alistair cut in, sharply, "Hey, are you two going to chit chat all night? Or are we going to finish this up?"

Faustine looked over at Zevran with her eyebrows raised in an expression of amused shock. The elf looked equally surprised…and equally amused.

"I think we're in trouble," she whispered.

"Best not to make him any angrier," he answered.

Wynne gave an inquisitive look to the former templar. Taking note of not only his scowl, but also his blush, she was led to believe he was a bit jealous. Of what, she wasn't sure at the moment. But she had seen his concern for the young woman when she went down in battle. It seemed to go beyond friendship, and that thought was a little disconcerting for her.

Well, those were fears for another time.

They opened the door to another room that held the staircase that would take them to the fourth level and stopped dead in their tracks.

"Andraste's frilly knickers," Faustine breathed.

The Sloth demon looked up, away from a man that Faustine felt she recognized, if only vaguely.

"Ah, visitors. I'd entertain you, but…too much effort involved," it sighed.

"Is…is that Niall?" she questioned, remembering the gently assertive man who'd spoken to her on the different Fraternities, and who had offered her a slightly sardonic view of the Circle and the Chantry.

'_It's until death do us part. Kind of romantic, isn't it?'_

She'd only known him briefly after her Harrowing, but he'd made a bit of an impact on her.

"Oh, don't you worry about him. He's just resting. Poor lad, he was so very, very weary. Would you like to join him?" the demon cajoled.

Faustine felt a wave of exhaustion overcome her, and glancing back at her companions, she saw they felt the same.

"Stop…talking," the girl struggled to say.

"Wouldn't you just like to lay down and rest? Just…forget about all of this?"

"What is this?" Zevran muttered. "Some ridiculous ploy to get me to let down my guard?" he scoffed before he fell down in a dead faint.

"Someone…pinch me," Alistair mumbled as he collapsed.

Wynne was saying something, but Faustine couldn't hear it with the rushing sound in her ears. Everything seemed to zoom out of focus before going completely dark.

"You deserve a rest. The world will go on without you."

* * *

_**The Tower:**__ You've gone too far._

_Stagnation, entrapment. Feeling imprisoned by present circumstance. Have faith; all things pass._

* * *

**A/N:** Wow…this is long. We're finally getting to the meat of the story now. I know some of the other chapters were a little rushed, but that was me setting up a sort of preamble, I suppose. I _am_ trying to break away from using so much of the game's dialogue, (but, I have to admit it, I love the dialogue, myself). The next chapter will actually be a direct continuation of this one, but will still be called chapter six ^_^. Because I'm hinky like that. And we'll get to really meet Cullen in that one. I will say this; I'm not sure how long it will take before the next one is out. I'm moving this weekend, and even though I have it started, I'm not sure when it'll get finished. But I'm not going to be waiting forever to get it done.

I also want to thank everyone who's either reviewed or put my story on Alerts. But I definitely encourage reviews. How else will I know what to change, or improve? Don't be shy! C+C is welcomed and encouraged!

Whoa…long A/N is…long.


	6. The Tower, part II

**Author:** BurningSilence

**Title:** Intersecting Fates

**Rating:** M (yes, there was a rating change, mostly for Cullen's naughty thoughts)

**Disclaimer:** DA:O does not belong to be in any way, shape, or form. It belongs to the wonderful people at BioWare who I'm sure have money coming out of their ears. No money is being made from this, so suing would be rather pointless.

**

* * *

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**Chapter VI: The Tower (part 2)**

"Ah, there you are!" Duncan greeted, smiling at the young mage. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

Faustine looked around, feeling a bit confused. "No…" she shook her head. "Did you need something from me?"

"I just wanted to see how you were. You've been at Weisshaupt for some time now. Do you like it here?" the Rivain asked, still smiling.

Faustine tried to recall when she had arrived here, but kept coming up blank. "I…don't know. Something doesn't feel quite right."

Duncan looked surprised at her comments. "Everything is as it should be. We eradicated the darkspawn, and the world is at peace."

Now _that_ definitely sounded strange. "We…_eradicated_ the darkspawn?"

"It was a triumph for all of us, bringing down the archdemon and setting the underground lairs ablaze."

"If the darkspawn are gone, then we are no longer needed."

"The Grey Wardens shall be keepers of history," Duncan explained, an unnatural glint in his eye. "We shall tell tales and sing songs of a more tumultuous time, that others may rejoice knowing that time has passed."

'Oh, Leliana would like that,' Faustine thought, smiling. 'Wait…Leliana? That's right…she's a bard; she loves stories. Of course, Morrigan would find it completely foolish…' her thoughts were beginning to disturb her. Names and images that were familiar, yet not at the same time. Like a dream…

"This isn't real, is it?" she sighed.

"What do you mean?" Duncan looked genuinely puzzled.

"I...I am a mage. I should be able to recognize the Fade when I am in it," she muttered. "You…died. At Ostagar. And…I am trapped, aren't I?"

Duncan's expression quickly changed to one of anger. "You foolish child! I have given you so much, and yet you throw it back in my face! Can you not be content with the peace I offer?"

"To ignore the darkspawn would be irresponsible," she stated.

"Fine, have your war and your darkspawn. May they be your doom!"

* * *

It hadn't been a particularly difficult battle. It wasn't a higher level demon by any means; in fact, it was probably just a creation of the Fade. However, there was another issue that she would need to address.

She was completely alone.

Which meant that Alistair, Wynne, and Zevran were all probably stuck in their own 'dreams'.

And she would have to find them.

Oh, joy.

Faustine looked around the room for anyway to get out. Her eyes alighted on a small pedestal. It looked to be of a similar make to the one used for the Harrowing. Cautiously, she stepped up to it, gazing down at the raw lyrium vapours wafting from it.

She reached out and dipped her hand into it, feeling a familiar tingling sensation go up her arm. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them next, she found herself in the raw Fade. Glancing up, she saw the imposing figure of the Black City.

"Why does this place seem so much less scary when I'm merely dreaming?" she mused aloud.

Hopefully her friends were having a better time of it than she was.

Though, she especially didn't want to dwell on what sorts of dreams Zevran would have.

As she continued along her path, she noticed a man standing a head of her, some distance away. She ran to him, eager to find someone who might know more than she did at the moment.

"Niall?"

She must have startled him, because when she came up to him, he jumped and turned around. "What…who are you? Where did you come from? Are you a demon?" He studied her a little more closely. "No…wait. I know you, don't I? You were the apprentice who left with the Grey Warden." He smiled a little, and shrugged. "Who would have thought you would wind up here, with me? Good job for getting out of that trap."

She figured he must have meant Weisshaupt. She wondered what his dream must have been. "Yes, well, thank you. Now what?"

He shrugged his shoulders again, seemingly uncaring of anything else around him. "I don't know. This place drains you of everything. Of hope, feeling…life…"

"We'll find a way out."

"No, there is no way out," he sighed, somewhat wistfully. "You'd think there might be, but you'd be wrong." He pointed to a platform a few meters away from them and continued on, "You see that pedestal over there? I've studied the runes on it—runes that signify other islands of the Sloth demon's domain." He slumped alongside one of the leaning pillars that dotted the realm and settled against it, maintaining his air of nonchalance. "The Sloth demon lives on the centre island, with five other islands surrounding it, forming some sort of protective ward. I thought I was getting somewhere when I figured that out, and I went to search each island only to have my hopes dashed."

"Why? What happened?"

"There's always an obstacle. You'll be able to see the path you need, but you'll never be able to reach it."

"I wonder if the others are on those islands…" she mused aloud to herself.

Niall looked thoughtful, before nodding once, "It's possible. There are many dreamers. You might find a way to reach them through the islands…if you're lucky."

"If we work together we can figure it out," she supplied. Besides, she didn't work well alone. There was no one to bounce ideas off of. Or, you know, keep people of off her when she was working her own 'magic'.

The Enchanter smiled slightly, "Nothing dampens your spirit, does it?"

"Nope," she chirped.

"I don't know whether I should admire you or pity you."

She had a feeling Niall wasn't much of a team player. She supposed that made sense, what with him being an Isolationist.

Faustine saw a portal and made up her mind. "I'll be back!" she chimed.

"Don't mind me then," he muttered.

* * *

After seeing the former apprentice disappear through the 'door', Niall let himself smile. She would wind up back here, just as he had.

A few moments later, she was back, looking a bit worse for wear, but smiling none the less.

"Something happened, didn't it? You look…different. What happened?"

She put her hands on her hips and grinned, "I became a mouse."

His eyebrows shot up, "Did you? Did it help? I know I saw the tiny holes…were you small enough to get through?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "It was actually very easy," she added with a touch of pride.

He sighed, looking at her reflectively, "You're so much…braver than I am. I was so sure it was impossible to get anywhere here…" As he contemplated what she told him, an idea occurred to him. "Do you think you could learn other shapes? Maybe they could help you get to places you couldn't otherwise."

"Just you wait; I'll get us out of here," she replied. "I'm sure you've been here far too long for your liking."

Before he could correct her, however, she was gone.

"I won't be getting out," he murmured to no one.

What had he been thinking when he went on this mad quest to retrieve the Litany of Adralla? He supposed he hadn't been thinking, much. If the Grey Warden managed to defeat Sloth, he would need to direct her to retrieve the litany from his body. He could already feel himself weakening.

As he was deep in thought, he heard the Warden (Maker, what was her name?) enter the raw Fade again.

"Back again? That's hardly surprising; there's no way out." He almost laughed when she scowled at him, but it would take too much effort. He continued, regardless of her irritation, "Every time you take a step you think: maybe this step will take me home…but you'd be wrong."

"When we were going through the stock-room, Owain told us that you were after something called the Litany of Adralla. What is it?"

"I'm not entirely sure. What I do know is that the litany stops blood mages from taking over your mind. I don't even know who, or what, Adralla is. You're better off asking somebody more knowledgeable," he explained, shrugging again.

"What happened with Uldred?" the girl asked.

"The Circle was about to ally itself with Loghain at Uldred's suggestion, until Loghain's treachery was revealed. Uldred made excuses, but we were having none of it. He panicked, then, tried to leave…Irving would not let him," Niall recounted the meeting the Enchanter's had had.

"What did Irving plan on doing?" the Warden asked, walking closer to him, her gait agitated.

"I don't know; I don't believe we got to that part. I was barely paying attention," he admitted. "Such meetings are boring; the course of action usually decided before we even congregate."

"When did the blood mages show up?"

Niall closed his eyes, recalling everything that had led up to his imprisonment in the Fade. "Uldred let loose a bolt of energy that flung us all against the far wall. _That_ woke me up." He took a deep breath, and released in a heavy exhalation. "It might have been a signal. That was when a whole group of mages poured into the chamber. That was when I saw real blood magic at work."

"But the abominations," the girl interrupted. "Where did they come from?"

He fixed her with a cool stare, making her duck her head in embarrassment. "I was just getting to that."

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Uldred must have been dabbling in demonology as well. When the fighting started, he tried to summon something…or some things. They overwhelmed him, and when the screaming stopped, Uldred was…gone."

The younger mage shivered, and swallowed heavily, "You mean he's dead?"

Niall scoffed, "I'm sure he wishes he were dead. Uldred became an abomination. And when I saw it, I ran for my life."

"I've fought an abomination before…" she trailed off, looking like she was unsure about something.

"I doubt you've seen anything like this. Uldred is a powerful mage, and he's possessed by a mad thing that cares not one whit about human life. I doubt the abomination you've seen could compare with him."

"I agree," she whispered.

"I gathered some of my fellows and we obtained the Litany from the stockroom. I thought if we disabled the others, we could throw everything we had at Uldred. But…I saw my friends fall, one by one…now it's my turn."

"We're not going to die here!" she exclaimed, determined. "I'll find a way out."

She turned around and stomped towards the Fade pedestal again and disappeared.

Niall could feel himself slipping; he felt colder, almost as if there were a draft that he couldn't quite find, and he was beginning to lose focus. Sloth must have been feeding off of him for quite some time now. If he perished soon, the demon would turn it's attentions onto the Warden, or perhaps one of the others that came in with her.

He hoped he could hold out a bit longer.

* * *

Faustine decided that she definitely hated the Fade. First there were darkspawn, then there were enraged templars…enraged templars that were _on fire_, insane mages, and demons of fire. No, she didn't hate the Fade…she _despised_ it.

"No amount of sweet dreams will _ever_ make me enjoy the Fade, ever again," she muttered to herself.

Right now, she found herself traveling to someone's dream, although, she was unsure as to who it belonged to.

As she walked farther down the twisting path, she could make out the shapes of three men; however, one was strapped down to a rack, while the other two were slowly cranking the wheel to it.

"Hah, I think I saw him flinch that time," one of the torturers said.

"Maybe. We'll make you scream yet, apprentice," the second one laughed.

"We're not going to go easy on you."

The third man groaned, and responded in a very familiar accent, "No…I wouldn't…want you to hold back. I'd be disappointed…if you did."

"This one has spirit, it's a shame we have to break him," the first torturer commented offhandedly.

"Maker's breath, Zevran!" she yelled as soon as everyone came into view. "Are you alright?" Something twisted in her chest seeing the elf strapped down to the device and stretched to what looked to be his limits.

He looked up, his eyes glazed with pain and confusion, "What…what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be…here…"

"You have to snap out of it! This is a dream!"

"I can't…I have to stay strong. This is my test. I am going to be a Crow. I need…to show them I can tolerate…pain," he insisted.

"Looks like your little girlfriend's worried about you," the second man sneered, making a vulgar gesture to the mage.

"Shut it, I'm not talking to you, demon!" she turned back to Zevran. "You're already an Antivan Crow! That's how we met…remember? You tried to kill me, for Andraste's sake!"

He shook his head. "That cannot be…but…you are speaking the truth? I can feel it. Is this nothing more than a bad dream…or…a memory?" he seemed to be speaking to himself.

"Oh, it looks like he's questioning us. That's a very, very bad thing to do, isn't it?" the second torturer smirked.

"Oh yes, we'll have to punish him severely for this."

"Of course," the mage muttered.

She was able to dispatch them quickly enough, and as soon as they 'died', she was able to free Zevran.

Though, it seemed with the torturers gone, the assassin's attitude was once again restored as well.

"Well, that was bracing! There's nothing like a good racking, is there?" He flashed her a smile and a wink.

Faustine noticed him disappearing and tried to grab him, much to his confusion.

"Hmmm? What are you doing? Where are you going?"

The mage stared at the spot where the elf used to be and let out a loud sigh of irritation.

"I guess I'll need to free the others from their nightmares, too."

* * *

By the time she got to Alistair, she was wrung out. She'd already dealt with Wynne's nightmare; she'd taken care of the principal demons guarding the other islands; and just recently had to kill off Alistair's demonic sister, nephews and nieces. Goldanna had a _lot_ of children.

She was ready to go back to camp and take a _real_ nap.

"You all have some very strange dreams," she muttered to Alistair.

"I…can't believe I fell for it. How could I not notice it earlier?" the templar wondered.

"This is the Fade," she said simply. "This isn't like the real world."

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Would you mind…not telling everyone how easily fooled I was?"

She was about to retort when he started flickering in and out of view.

"Are we going now? Wait, where are you going? What's happening to me? Hey!"

"Of course," she huffed. "Well, I guess it's off to the centre island then…I hope I'll meet everyone else there. I…don't think I can take that Sloth demon on my own."

She felt a severe headache coming on; a common enough symptom for mages who have used up a significant amount of mana in a short amount of time. She'd have to ignore it for now; however, otherwise she wouldn't be able to destroy the demon who ruled the realm she was trapped in.

And then he might eat her.

Faustine wasn't going to have _anyone_ eat her.

Walking over to the Fade pedestal once again, she touched it and felt the, by now, incredibly familiar (and slightly invasive) feeling of being teleported from one island to another.

When she opened her eyes next, she found herself directly in front of the Sloth demon.

Feeling a moment of panic, she glanced around hurriedly, only to notice that her companions were materializing next to her.

"Oh, here I am! And there you are! You just disappeared, but no matter!" Alistair exclaimed. Faustine wondered if he'd gotten a little too close to some of the lyrium veins that were scattered through this realm.

She noticed Zevran looked a little disappointed, and then heard him say, "How did I get here? What happened to all of those luscious wood nymphs?"

"Unbelieveable," Faustine asked, temporarily forgetting about the demon in front of her.

"And what do we have here?" Sloth rumbled. "Rebellious minions? Escaped slaves?" he chuckled. "My, you all have some gall. Play time is over. You all have to go back now."

"You will not hold us, demon. We found each other in this place and you cannot stand against us," Wynne stated resolutely.

Faustine leaned towards the older woman. "I really appreciate your optimism, and I'm not normally one to discourage that, but…I think he can take us," she whispered.

"I know you're tired," Wynne started. "But do not let him in on your weakness. We will do fine. We _must_ survive. For the Circle, if nothing else."

"If you go back quietly, I'll do better this time. I'll make you much happier," the demon promised.

"I'll make my own happiness, if it's all the same to you," Faustine replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"So be it, mortal. You will soon learn to bow to your betters."

* * *

"Four forms! Four bleeding forms!" the mage ranted, tromping up the path that led to the last Fade pedestal, and, hopefully back to the tower.

"We still defeated it," Zevran pointed out.

"Alistair almost _died_! Wynne exhausted herself, and we would have been left with just you and me!" she continued on, almost as if she hadn't heard him. At his affronted look, she hurriedly tried to smooth over her last remark. "I'm not saying you can't hold your own, but…he was a pretty big for awhile. And it felt like he was getting stronger with every form he took! I feel like we just got lucky, that's all," she admitted.

Alistair started cracking up ahead of them.

"What's so funny?" she snapped.

"You. You're so…_upset_ about the fight, even though we won," he managed to get out between chuckles.

She sighed, "I know, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just frustrated. And tired. This is the worst nap ever."

"After this, perhaps we should scrape some gold together and rent a couple rooms at a tavern," Zevran suggested.

"Yes!" Faustine agreed, whole-heartedly.

They spent the rest of the walk in a companionable silence until they reached Niall. He looked shocked upon seeing all of them together.

"You defeated the demon…I never thought…I never thought that you could free yourself…free us both," he murmured in amazement. "When you return, take the Litany of Adralla from my…body. It will protect you from the worst of the blood magic."

"Aren't you coming with us?" Faustine questioned, frowning.

"I've…been here too long. For you, it'll be an afternoon nap," the enchanter ignored her comment about 'napping'. He gave a regretful smile as he continued, "Your body won't have wasted away while your spirit was in the hands of a demon."

"Y-you think you're going to die?" the girl wondered. "But…we can heal you!"

Niall shook his head, "Thank you, but, it's too late for me. I do not fear what may come. They say we return to the Maker in death, and that…is not such a terrible thing." He noticed her flinch, and smiled to himself; he remembered her being fairly non-religious. He'd rarely seen her in the chapel, and she had avoided most priests and templars like the plague. "I'm…not a hero. Perhaps thinking that I could be was foolish."

Faustine shook her head in denial, "That's not true. You did a lot to help the Circle."

"Dark times, greater acts of heroism, eh?" he chuckled. "You may be right. But I can rest easy knowing that you will all save the Circle." He sobered a bit, looking down at his hands, "Before I was taken to the Circle, I can remember my mother telling me I was meant for greatness. That I would be more than my ancestors ever dreamed…I hope I haven't disappointed her." He straightened and took Faustine's hand in his own. Grasping it firmly, he told her, "It is time for us both to be on our way. Remember the Litany of Adralla. The Circle is all that matters now." He released her hand and stepped back.

As everything began to recede around Faustine, she heard Niall whisper, "Thank you and goodbye…friend."

* * *

Wearily, the mage found herself blinking her eyes slowly, trying to clear the sleep from them.

"Let's try not to do that again," she heard Alistair yawn.

"The floors of your Circle were clearly not meant to be slept on," Zevran commented.

Faustine rubbed her face, getting used to being back in the physical world. "The one thing I _am_ going to miss about being there are all of those forms I learned," she confessed.

"Is that so?" Wynne asked, clearly amused.

"Yes, especially the golem's form. That one was fun," she grinned, remembering being able to pummel the Arcane Horror's she had come across. She looked over at Zevran, recalling the dream she'd found him in, and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" she murmured, trying not to be overheard by the others.

He brushed her off, laughing, "Of course I am. What makes you ask?"

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I suppose I was just worried. The Fade can be a frightening place. I still shudder whenever I think of my Harrowing."

He made a small humming noise in the back of his throat. "Well, I am fine. It is over now, anyway, correct?"

She gave him a half-smile, "Yes, well, at least, for now. Now we have to deal with Uldred. Oh!" She slapped herself of the forehead and went over to Niall's body. Faustine cringed as she went through his robes and retrieved a small scroll of paper. "The Litany," she explained. "I almost forgot it."

"That would have been marvelous!" the assassin quipped.

"I would have remembered…eventually," she defended.

"Yeah, in the middle of the battle," Alistair teased.

Faustine was about to throw a (very small) lightning bolt at her so-called best friend, when he released a moderate wave of energy and nullified her spell.

"Not nice, Alistair," she chastised.

"You were going to shock me!"

"It was all in good fun!" the mage defended. "I wouldn't have made it _too_ painful."

"_Very_ reassuring."

"Come now, you two. We have work to do," Wynne scolded gently.

* * *

"I'm getting really tired of all these demons!" Faustine shouted, dodging a blow clearly meant to take off her head. "Uldred will pay for this inconvenience!"

"I hope I don't get blood all over me, again," Zevran laughed as he pulled his dagger out of one of the undead that had swarmed them.

"This…is getting…really old!" Alistair complained as he knocked a skeleton down and severed its head.

Faustine cast her chain lightning spell with a huff, finishing the last couple of undead.

"We are ridiculously awesome!" the elf commented, wiping off his blades.

"You should probably save that for when we finally deal with whatever it is that Uldred's become. From what I heard from Niall it was…horrible," Faustine shivered involuntarily.

"Well…yeah," Alistair spoke up again. "I mean, look around. This isn't exactly the product of someone who wanted to do a little Circle renovation."

Faustine glared at him, effectively silencing any more smart remarks he wanted to make. She walked over to the door and tried to open it. After a couple of tries, she turned to Alistair. "Alistair, I think the door's stuck," she pouted, clearly implying that she wanted him to open it.

"Why do I always get the grunt jobs?"

"_Please_? If you want, Zevran can help if you can't do it by yourself," she assured.

There was a silence as Wynne and Zevran tried to keep from laughing at the templar's expense.

"Get out of my way; I'll open the bloody door," he snapped.

Alistair managed to pry the door open and stepped inside. Faustine had been side tracked by something that had caught her eye.

'Probably a scroll or something,' he thought.

"Oh, Maker," he heard Wynne whisper.

He looked up and noticed a templar trapped behind some sort of ward. "Hey, you might want to get in here!" he called to Faustine.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, running up behind them. "Andraste's grace! Cullen?" she ran up to the barrier, her eyes wide and panicked.

"Oh, this trick again?" Cullen sneered. "I know what you are, it won't work. I will stay strong." Faustine was taken aback by his appearance. It was so unlike him to act this way. And the way he was looking at her…

"Cullen! Don't you recognize me?" she entreated.

At first his only response was to scoff and turn away from her. When he turned back, his expression held so much suffering it was difficult for her to look at.

"Only too well…how far they must have delved into my thoughts…" he trailed off, seemingly unaware of her presence.

"The boy is exhausted. And this cage…I've never seen anything like it," Wynne spoke up.

Faustine felt her heart break a little. Cullen had once been a very sweet young man, who always had something kind to say to her, had always remembered her birthday, and was always willing to look the other way if she and Jowan were out after curfew. Who knew what kind of torment Uldred and the others put him through.

"Enough visions!" he snapped. He turned his gaze on her, so full of anger, disgust…It was not easy for her to continuing looking. "If anything in you is human…kill me now, and stop this game. You broke the others, but I will stay strong, for my sake…for theirs!" He began to pace behind the barrier, wringing his hands and muttering to himself. "Sifting through my thoughts, tempting me with the one thing I have always wanted but could never have…"

His mind kept playing those images over and over in his mind. All of his fantasies, laid bare in front of him, and now the demon continues to torment with images of Faustine coming back to the Tower.

_

* * *

Soft hands running up his bare chest as she settled herself in his lap._

* * *

"_Maybe we should go somewhere else and continue our conversation in…private."_

_

* * *

His discarded armour and her robes hiked up around her waist as he pounded into her, mindlessly. Her voice hitching in passion as his thrusts became rougher, his grip on her hips tightening…_

_

* * *

He swallowed past the lump that lodged itself in his throat after she suggested they get to know each other a bit better. "Oh…my goodness. If you're saying…what I think…that would be really, er, inappropriate…and, ooh…I couldn't," he stammered, trying to escape her gaze and his own sinful imaginings. A small hand grasping his arm kept him from fleeing._

* * *

"Using my shame against me," his voice broke. "My ill-advised infatuation with her, a mage…_of all things_!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blond elf smirk and cast sidelong glance at Faustine, who was blushing heavily. "Someone was quite the little heart-breaker when they were an apprentice. My, my."

Cullen leaned against his cage, trying to calm himself down; they were just illusions, after all. "I'm so tired of these cruel jokes…these tricks…these…"

Faustine found her voice again, although she was still in a bit of shock from hearing a bit of what Cullen went through. She said the first thing that came to her mind, "I…don't think I should have heard that." She regretted it as soon as she said it, as Cullen's reaction was a bit hysterical.

He shut his eyes and clenched his fists tightly. "Silence! I'll not listen to anything you have to say. Now begone!" He opened his eyes and his expression crumbled. "Still here? But that's always worked before! I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them."

"I _really_ wish you hadn't said all of that," Faustine mumbled, trying to ignore both Alistair's inquisitive look, and Zevran's decidedly lascivious leer. Yes, she was deeply embarrassed. As of right now, she had learned more than she ever could have possibly learned about Cullen. She'd had an idea that the templar might have fancied her, but she had assumed it was the same as it was with her; a crush. The fact that his feelings had gone deep enough for a demon to torment him with them…the thought was sobering, to say the least.

"I am beyond caring what you think!" he snapped. "The Maker knows my sin, and I pray that he forgives me."

"There's nothing wrong with liking someone," she murmured, trying to calm him down. His behavior was beginning to frighten her. He wasn't at all like the Cullen she had known. "Why does it cause you so much pain?"

He merely sneered at her. "You're a mage, and I, a templar! It is my duty to oppose you and all you are! It was just the foolish fancy of a naïve boy. I know better now," he derided. "Why have you come back to the tower? How did you survive?"

"This tower was my home. Is it so strange that I would want to defend it?" she answered softly. She stepped a bit closer to the barrier, wanting to reassure the templar that everything would be fine…but she knew that it wouldn't be. Not for him…not for a long time.

He looked down at her, searching her eyes for something Faustine was unsure of. "As it was mine. And look what they've done to it! They deserve to die, Uldred most of all!" He pressed his hands to the invisible wall, his expression beseeching. "They caged us like animals…looked for ways to break us. I'm the only one left…"

The mage let out a silent gasp. That meant…all of his friends…oh Maker, they were _all_ dead.

"They turned some into…monsters. And…there was nothing I could do."

Faustine felt herself become angry at Greagoir once again, this time, for not only abandoning the mages in here, but even the templars…At the very least, he could have made sure more had been able to get out. If he had…

Cullen wouldn't be the way he was now.

"You need to stay strong," she whispered, bringing her hands up to the barrier as well, seemingly touching the templar's.

He snapped his hands back as if they had been burned. "And to think I once thought we were too hard on you!"

His angry words felt like a punch to her stomach. The way he looked at her…like _she_ had been the one to imprison him, to torture him, to kill his friends…

"We're not all evil, Cullen."

"Only mages have that much power at their fingertips. Only mages are so susceptible to the infernal whisperings of the demons!"

"This is a discussion for another time!" Wynne cut it, weary of this continuing dispute. There were people in the tower who were going through only Maker-knew-what, and those two were playing catch-up. "Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred; where are they?"

Cullen looked at her as if he had only just noticed she was there. "They are in the Harrowing Chamber…the sounds coming out of there…oh, Maker," he moaned, his eyes haunted.

"We must hurry," Wynne stated, touching Faustine's shoulder. "They are in grave danger, I'm sure of it."

At Faustine's nod, Cullen exploded. "You can't save them! You don't know what they've become!"

Very calmly, the younger mage turned to him with pitying eyes, "I'm a mage too, Cullen."

"_You_ haven't been up there! _You_ haven't been under their influence!" He shouted, desperately. "They've been up there with b-blood mages whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and _corrupt_ your thoughts!"

Oh, and how well did he know _that_! Dreams of simply kissing the mage in front of him, of being able to hold her whenever he wished, and yes, even of making love to her had been completely distorted. The images that had played through his mind had become more and more degrading, both to himself and Faustine. Seemingly a punishment to him for not breaking as soon as the demon wished it.

"Cullen…" Faustine whimpered. She started when she felt someone's hand on her shoulder.

"His hatred of mages is very…intense, right now," Alistair murmured, trying to reassure her. "The memory of his friend's deaths are still fresh in his mind."

"You have to end it now, before it's too late!" the trapped templar implored.

The woman looked down, feeling very weary, absolutely wrung out. "What do you suggest I do, Cullen?"

"To ensure this horror is ended…that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill _everyone_ up there."

Her head snapped up in shock. "I can't do that Cullen! I'd rather risk maleficarum than risk harming an innocent if I can help it!"

"Of course you would!" he snarled. Faustine jumped back, despite knowing there was no way he'd be able to break through that barrier.

"W-what is that supposed to mean?"

"I know about you helping your maleficar friend Jowan escape! I'm not surprised that you'd let blood mages go free, completely unpunished. I tried to convince myself that you must have been under a thrall, tried to make any excuse I could for you. Have you already thrown your lot in with them? Is that it? Dabbling in blood magic, just months after leaving the Circle!" his voice increasing in volume as he continued to rage.

"Hey! Don't talk to her that way!" Alistair snapped, pulling Faustine back a bit.

"So, she's gotten to you too?" he sneered at the blond. "Is she sweet to you, too? Does she make you feel like you're special to her?" Before he could get anymore out, Faustine slammed her hands against the barrier, surprising Alistair with her display of temper.

"Don't you _dare_!" she growled. "Don't you _dare_ make it out that I manipulated you! Don't blame me for whatever feelings you had or have! For the love of the Maker I'm trying to help! I cannot kill innocents just because you think they _might_ be maleficarum! I understand you're angry--,"

"You know nothing! I am thinking of the future of the Circle, of Ferelden!"

"I do not want more innocent blood on my hands," she bit out through clenched teeth, thinking of Isolde, and by proxy, Jowan. All of her past mistakes seemed to be catching up to her right at this very moment.

"I am just willing to see the painful truth, which you are content to ignore…but what can I do?" The fight suddenly gone from him, he slumped down, his back now to her. "I cannot directly influence your actions, though I would love to deal with the mages myself."

She winced at the anger in his voice, the desire to hurt the other mages…something he had not enjoyed before.

"I…I want you to stay safe," her voice cracked.

"Once Uldred is dead, I will be freed."

"Yes, everyone will be freed, including the mages."

He scoffed at her, "Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your _compassion_ hasn't doomed us all."

"Cullen…" Faustine breathed. She felt someone touch her arm. The younger mage turned her head to see Wynne gazing at her sympathetically.

"Do not worry about such things right now. Things will get better," the older woman tried to assure the girl.

Faustine nodded dumbly as they made their way up to the Harrowing Chamber.

* * *

It took everything Faustine had to not vomit at the scene she came in on. Uldred, standing in the middle of the chamber with several abominations holding one mage prisoner while they forced the rest to watch. The mage's body twisted and writhed in agony, before Uldred released whatever spell he had over the poor man.

"Do you accept this gift I offer you?" Uldred asked the Enchanter. The Enchanter nodded, his eyes rolling back in his head. As soon as he agreed, Uldred and the abominations performed some sort of ritual, resulting in a loud explosion and the mutation of the mage who had moments before been tortured.

Uldred turned his head to where Faustine and her companions were. "Ah, look what we have here…Irving star pupil. Uldred didn't think much of you then, and I certainly don't see your appeal now…"

"Well, forgive me if I'm not very impressed," the girl snapped.

"I suppose one can't be loved universally," Uldred sighed. "I'm quite impressed that you're still alive," he admitted. "Unfortunately, that must mean you've killed my servants." He made a dismissive gesture as he sighed once more, "Oh well, they're better off dying serving their betters than living with the terrible responsibility of independence."

"You're turning these people into abominations," Wynne cried out. "There's nothing glorious in what you've become, Uldred!"

"Uldred?" the man looked truly surprised. "He is gone. I am Uldred, and yet not Uldred. I am more than he was." He fixed Wynne with a determined glint in his eye. "I could give you this gift Wynne. You and all mages. All you have to do is accept." He shook his head and glanced at Faustine and then the mages behind him, "But some people can be so stubborn."

"I'm glad so many of them stood up to you," the Warden stated defiantly.

"And what good did that do? I still won," he mentioned. "Wait…what do we have here?" he cooed when someone made a strangled noise. "Why…it's the First Enchanter!" he exclaimed, bringing Irving over. "Come say hello to your old apprentice, Irving." He turned to the small group and shrugged, "Don't mind the blood; he's had a…hard day."

Faustine felt horrified; there he was, her mentor, covered in blood and…something else. How long had he been like this? If someone like Irving could be brought to such a level…

"What have you done to him?" Wynne nearly shrieked. Faustine had never heard the woman so panicked. Perhaps they both felt the same way.

"Stop him…" Irving wheezed. "He's…building an army. He will…destroy the templars and…"

"You're a sly little fox, Irving," Uldred cut the older man off. "Telling on me like that," he chastised. "And here I thought he was starting to turn."

"N-never," the First Enchanter mumbled, his head lolling to the side.

"That's enough out of you. He'll serve me eventually, as will you," Uldred determined.

"I don't think so," Faustine stated, preparing her lightning. She was not about to become an abomination. She didn't survive her Harrowing for nothing.

"I don't think your opinion matters much. That is what I've decided, and that is what will be done." He smirked at her, "Fight if you must. It will just make my victory all the sweeter."

With that, he began to twist and grow to a monstrous hulk that Faustine recognized from her Harrowing. She felt almost hysterical when she realized he was a Pride demon.

"Well…look at that," she heard Zevran mutter breathlessly.

"He's doing something to the mages!" Wynne shouted. "Use the Litany!"

Faustine started and scrambled to take the litany out of her robes. "Alright, just keep them off of me!"

After she finished reciting it, she noticed the previously enthralled mages and collapsed; alive, but no longer under the demon's influence. She began hexing Uldred with everything she had, while Alistair kept trying to purge the area of the blood mages' magical effects. Unfortunately, it made hers and Wynne's spells less effective, but it certainly helped level the playing field.

Faustine came to the conclusion that there were too many other mages and made a split second decision. "Just so you all know, I'm really sorry about this," she yelled as she began to cast her Tempest spell. If Wynne could keep up her Lifeward, they should all be fine.

Fortunately, the prisoners were all just out of the lightning's range. The same could not be said for her friends.

When Uldred finally collapsed, among the corpses of the other blood mages, Alistair huffed at her. "You might have given us some warning about that!"

"What did you think I was apologizing for?"

"Well…not that!"

"Hey, he's dead now, right?"

The templar just shook his head at her, and then blushed when she touched his hair. "Oh…I burned you a bit…sorry!"

In fact, they _all_ looked a bit singed after that fight. Alistair had scorch marks on his armour and face, Zev's hair had come loose and had a nasty burn on his right arm, and Wynne's robes and definitely seen better days.

'Wynne and I definitely need to buy some new robes. I feel practically naked in mine!' she thought.

Remembering why she was there, she ran to help the First Enchanter up, with Wynne following right behind her.

"Irving, are you all right?" the Senior Enchanter asked worriedly.

"Maker…I'm getting too old for this," he mumbled. "I've been better. But I am thankful to be alive. I suppose that is your doing, isn't it Wynne?"

"I had help," she murmured fondly.

Irving looked at Faustine and smiled, "I was surprised to see you standing there. But I am glad you have returned. The Circe owes you both a debt that we will never be able to repay." He tried to stand completely on his own, but faltered and Faustine reached out to steady him. "Come, the templars await," he sighed. "We shall let them know the tower is under our control again."

"Very well," Faustine grinned. "Lead on."

"I will need you to guide me down the stairs," he admitted. "Ah, curse whoever insisted the Circle be housed in a tower…"

* * *

Later that night found the little group back in camp, eager to rest after the ordeal they had all gone through. Alistair was busy speaking with Wynne, who had decided she would be of better use traveling with the Grey Wardens; Sten was, once again, off with Orion doing some hunting; Leliana had taken to her instruments, presumably writing a ballad about what happened at the Circle; and Morrigan was doing…well, only the Maker knew what; and Faustine…

Well, Faustine was sitting with Zevran, wrapping his injured arm after dabbing a poultice onto it.

"I thought you said you were no good with healing potions," he remarked.

"I'm not," she replied. "Wynne made this."

"You have been oddly quiet this evening," Zevran murmured.

She didn't say anything for a moment, just continued to bandage his arm, and when she was done, she gave it a soft pat and released it. She then sighed and looked up at him. "I suppose I just have a lot on my mind right now."

"You have been thinking of your templar," the assassin stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He could tell he was right by her blush, "You mean Cullen? What makes you say that?" Then she added, as an afterthought, "And he's not 'mine'."

"I heard what he said about you, and his feelings. I _was_ there, if you remember," he teased. "I also saw how you responded to him."

"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"You fancied him, did you not?"

"I-it wasn't like that," she stuttered, not sure if she was ready to talk about this particular subject.

"I saw how you looked at him…"

"He was very kind to me," she admitted. "And…when I was younger…yes, I suppose I did find him attractive."

"Oh, but that wasn't all, was it?"

"You're determined to embarrass me, aren't you?"

"You look absolutely ravishing when you blush."

"…Shut it."

At Zevran's inquisitive stare, she huffed and explained. "I've actually known Cullen for a very long time. He was raised in the Chantry, like I was raised in the Circle. When boys like him are raised by the Chantry, they usually become templars. He happened to be raised in a chantry near Lake Calenhad, therefore, he was being trained to keep watch over the mages there. I was eight when I first met him…I believe he was about ten years old." She smiled fondly as she recalled the sweet, copper-haired boy who had driven off some of the older children who had been picking on her. "He was later sent to the Circle to finish his training and take his vows when we were adolescents. He was one of the few templars who didn't harass us apprentices. I suppose I developed a bit of a…crush on him. He was always such a gentleman, always willing to talk with me, or let Jowan and I break curfew. A few times, he'd even covered for us." She sighed and folded her hand in her lap, "I suppose it doesn't matter now; he wouldn't even look at me when we reported back to Greagoir."

Zevran wasn't going to say anything, but he'd noticed the look that Cullen had given Faustine while they had been arguing outside the Harrowing chamber, and it was definitely not related to hate or disgust. But it did have a tormented shadow behind it. He didn't think the lad would ever really recover from his time imprisoned. And…it would be potentially dangerous for Faustine to be around him.

"Ah, it is his loss then!" he chirped. "And now, I have a question for you," he stated, eager to change the subject. It did not sit well with him to see the Grey Warden so serious…so upset. The last few days had been particularly hard on her.

She looked at him warily, but nodded all the same.

"Tell me, my dear, how well-versed are you in poetry? Antivan poetry specifically."

"This is your question?" she asked, a little dumbfounded. Where was he going with this?

"And why not? I am no master of serious dialogue, after all," he shrugged his shoulders and grinned. "It was recited to me, as I recall, by a rather wealthy target of mine. Let's see," he cleared his throat. " 'The symphony I see in thee / It whispers songs to me / Songs of hot breath upon my neck / Songs of soft sighs by my head / Songs of nails upon my back / Songs of thee come to my bed'."

By the time he'd finished, Faustine was blushing all the way down to her navel. A grin fought its way to her face as she tried not to laugh in embarrassment. "Oh dear…" she mumbled. "That's…pretty terrible."

"Oh, I know, I know," he answered, chuckling himself. "I can't believe she thought it would convince me to spare her. I had sex with her anyway, but that goes without saying," he shrugged. "She still had to die." He saw Faustine make a sarcastic gesture and fought back another round of laughter. "The poem was amusing at the time, and thus I've always remembered it."

"And so…you thought to recite it to me…why?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

"I thought that perhaps you would be cheered up by some naughty poetry. You simply look so…unhappy. Such an unflattering expression, for such a lovely face."

"Flatterer," she mumbled, ducking her head away from his scrutiny. "These aren't the best of times, you know."

"True, but they rarely ever are. Fortunately, I tend to make do with whatever time I have. It's served me well most days. You might learn to do the same." He laughed when he saw the look she gave him from under her fringe. "Or you could ignore me, considering where my brilliance has gotten me."

"We should get to bed," she mentioned.

"Really? What will the others think?" he teased.

She jumped up, and glared down at him, "I didn't mean together!"

He stood up and laughed, putting his un-bandaged arm around her shoulder. "You look absolutely enchanting when you're flustered."

"I swear by all that is unholy I will find a way to turn you into a toad if you're not careful," she threatened. "Or I'll feed you to Morrigan's mother."

"Ah, sounds intriguing!"

"Good _night_, Zev," she bade, retiring to her tent. As soon as she laid down in her bedroll, she couldn't help but start laughing. She rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow to muffle the sounds.

By the Maker, life would have been quite boring if Zevran had never tried to kill them.

_**

* * *

**_

_**The Tower:**__ You've gone too far._

_Cosmic direction. Castles built on sand crumble; reassess your life and belief systems. Be prepared for rapid change._

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** Alright, so that was _way_ longer than I intended. I know I said before that this part may take awhile to get out, but when I looked back through my files, most of this had already been written. Wow…21 pages…I doubt all of my chapters will be this long, but I suppose this is a nice goal to shoot for. Now, seriously, the next chapter will take a bit of time to get up…because I really am moving, and starting school, and doing other horrible, adult-type things. I want another chapter that focuses on Cullen…maybe for an epilogue…or something…I don't know. Cullen makes me happy, in a sad kind of way. Thanks again to everyone who's either Favourited/Reviewed/Alerted my story ^_^ That also makes me happy.


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